This So Wasn't in the Training Manual
by Chiella
Summary: Post-movie: Head Reaper George teams up with an old friend to figure out why people are dying without an appointment, all while juggling work, reaping, managing her team, and dealing with the shadowy figures of Upper Management. T for language. NEW CHAPTER 4 added, new material to come soon!
1. Strange Things are Afoot

A/N: Hello, world! I know not many people are still doing much with Dead Like Me, but I came across this half-finished in my documents folder and decided it should be finished and see the light of day. Please note that the first few chapters are setting up for the rest of the story, so give it until at least chapter 4 and if by then I don't have you interested in reading, then c'est la vie. Reviews/concrit are always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: Naturally, I don't own anything related to Dead Like Me. But I continue to mourn the untimely death (hmm, poor word choice?) of this fantastic show.

* * *

George sat in what would quickly become her usual spot, engrossed in her work. After Rube had finally gotten his promotion and the disastrous reign of Cameron, George had decided that if she had to be the boss, she might as well follow the example of the one who'd actually given a fuck. While things had been a bit tumultuous at first, to say the least, things for George and her crew had settled down nicely over the last few months- if you could call popping souls and standing witness to an endless cycle of death, death, and more death "nice."

It had taken three months, but Der Waffle Haus had finally reopened, bigger and tackier than before. Earlier that morning, George had entered and made a beeline for what used to be their usual table, claiming Rube's old seat in their booth for her own. She figured he'd appreciate the continuance of their traditional morning breakfast meetings at his favorite waffle joint.

Kiffany, stopping by to refill her coffee, smiled a greeting. "It's so good to see you back here. I'm glad that fire didn't drive away all my favorite regulars. Will the others be joining you too?"

"Are you kidding? You couldn't keep me away from your waffles, Kiffany my love," Mason beamed as he plopped down on the seat across from George, Daisy joining him somewhat more sedately while Roxy settled beside George.

"Still waiting for one more then? I'm surprised, usually Rube's the first one of you here," Kiffany noted as she poured coffee for the newcomers.

A slightly awkward silence descended upon the group before George cleared her throat. "Actually, he got a promotion and had to transfer to a new office, so it'll just be us now."

"But not to worry, Kiff! I'll take a banana bonanza and a side of extra extra extra crispy bacon. It's like he never left at all!" Mason winked.

Kiffany just shook her head at his antics. "And what can I get for the rest of you?" She took their orders and headed off to the kitchen to drop them off, leaving the four reapers to their morning chatter.

Except this morning there was a good bit less chatter than usual. "My goodness," Daisy said, finally breaking the silence, "you'd think someone had died or something. We've been just fine the last three months. Why should it be any different here? I know it was Rube's spot, but we've been getting by just fine. We'll manage, you'll see. Now, how are we doing on reaps today, Georgia?"

Interlacing her fingers and stretching her arms out in front of her, Georgia smirked. "You're not going to like it," she warned as she passed yellow sticky notes around, one each for Mason, Roxy and herself, and four for Daisy.

Mason chortled at Daisy's expression, a mix of horror and resignation. "Well so much for getting my nails done today. I'll see you at home, Georgia. The rest of you, till tomorrow," she said, finishing her coffee and sliding out of the booth.

After polishing off his Rube Special as he liked to think of it, Mason grabbed his jacket, threw down some cash and headed off for his own assignment, leaving Roxy and George to reflect over coffee.

Roxy watched George, who was lost in her own thoughts a million miles away, for a moment before resolutely deciding that someone would have to coax George back to earth.

"Hey kid, what's bothering you? I know you and Rube were sort of friends, and I know what happened with Cameron was all kinds of messed up, but you seemed to be doing ok before this."

George jumped a bit before shrugging sheepishly at the cop. "I don't know, I guess just being here without Rube really brought home that he's actually gone. And I'm supposed to somehow fill his shoes? How fucked up is that? I'm only marginally less of a fuck-up than MASON for fuck's sake. Plus, I've still got work at Happy Time, and Delores is talking about giving me a promotion to go with my new office, and, well, it just seems like someone up there has decided to screw with my life yet again and dump all kinds of responsibility I'm so not ready for in my lap."

Roxy just looked at her steadily. "No, you are ready for it. You're the only one who saw through that dick Cameron's bullshit. Rube taught you right, and you've been doing just fine since you got the job. And you know they love you over at that shithole you call a job. Quit worrying so much and you'll be fine. You don't have to be Rube, you just have to make sure all the reaping gets done as it should. Now if we're done with this little nauseating heart-to-heart, I've got to go bust some law-breaking balls. I'll see ya around kid."

George watched Roxy go with a thoughtful expression on her face. Could she really do Rube's job without being Rube? Well, maybe. Things had gone more or less smoothly since she'd gotten the job; it helped that her three reapers knew what they were doing and had been sufficiently frightened by everything that had gone wrong under Cameron's leadership. Although… she only had three reapers. And now that she thought about it, the reaping load had been unusually high lately. Shouldn't there have been a replacement for Rube/Cameron by now? Daisy had shown up almost immediately after Betty had, well, disappeared. She still wasn't sure what had happened to Betty, and figured there was a decent chance she never would. After settling the bill with Kiffany, George grabbed her coat and headed off to work.

* * *

The next morning, George padded downstairs in her bathrobe and slippers, still half asleep. She poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed the non-descript envelope just inside her door, and collapsed on the couch, giving the caffeine time to work through her system. Finally starting to perk up, she pulled over the leather date book from the table and opened the daily list of reaps. She gingerly pulled the rubber bands off the book and placed them around her wrist, and smiled slightly, thinking Rube would forgive her for the minor theft of his book. The team still had their phones from Cameron, but George figured that sometimes technology just fucked things up. At least Rube's system had always been reliable.

As she copied in the names, places, and times of death into the notebook, Daisy flounced in with her own cup of coffee, makeup already on and hair styled and coiffed. George glanced up long enough to glare in her direction. While George didn't fully wake up until at least her second cup of coffee, once she was up- which sometimes required an act of God, or at least extreme encouraging from George- Daisy practically glowed in the mornings, fluttering around the house testing the effects of various lighting situations on her chosen ensemble and accessories. Sometimes Daisy's saccharine sweetness in the morning was enough to make George want to kill her. Or it would if Daisy wasn't already dead. And today was looking like one of those days.

"Did you see? The theater's doing an anniversary showing of my movie," Daisy mentioned, handing the local newspaper over for George's inspection before floating over to a plush chair and pulling out a nail file.

George glanced up, trying to gauge Daisy's reaction to the showing of Gone with the Wind. Deciding she didn't seem upset about it, she took the paper and skimmed the article. But the story below the fold caught her attention.

"Hey, wait a minute…"

The headline, "Three University Students Dead as a Result of Tragic Accident," sprawled across the lower half of the page, accompanied by a large photo of the remnants of a college classroom, smoke still curling in the air.

Daisy looked up from filing her nails. "Hmm?"

George read the rest of the article in confusion. "Three college kids died yesterday in an explosion in a science lab," she muttered distractedly.

"So?"

"So, explosions are our division. But we didn't have post-its for any of them," George said slowly.

Daisy shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe Roxy or Mason had them."

George just raised her eyebrow at her. "Daisy, I write the post-its. I know what names were on them. I even have it right here."

She flipped to yesterday's page in Rube's datebook. "See? No C. Carmichael, M. Weston, or S. Spencer. They didn't have an appointment, and for all we know, their souls could still be trapped in their bodies. Or what's left of their bodies anyway. Maybe one of us should check…" she mused.

"Well, you're the boss. But I'd suggest sending Mason. He actually seems to enjoy the squishy ones," Daisy suggested with a shudder.

"You do know I was a squishy one, right?" Seeing Daisy's unapologetic shrug, George continued, "But that's not a bad suggestion. His reap is pretty close to the morgue. And he's been on his best behavior since the douche-bag-who-shall-not-be-named." Slipping the rubber bands back around the leather book, George stood to get ready for the day.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the gang gathered at their usual spot for George to hand out the usual yellow notes. Before Mason could high-tail it out of there for whatever nefarious plot he had planned this week, George grabbed his arm.

"I have a favor to ask, Mason," she began.

An unholy gleam lit up his eyes. "Oh reeeeeally. And what do I get out of it?"

"How about I don't tell Daisy about how you moaned her name while making out with the new blonde waitress? You're never going to win her over with that kind of shit you know."

Mason paled. "Um, right-o! Wait, you think I actually have a shot?" He leaned forward eagerly.

George smirked. "Not really, but stranger things have happened. She did like that you went to her play and didn't give her crap about it afterwards. She thought the carnation thing was cute."

Nodding thoughtfully, he pulled out a pen and wrote "Flowers" on the back of his post-it for the day. "Flowers. Right. I can do flowers. And chocolates. Girls like chocolates..."

Before he could get too carried away, George interrupted him. "Y'know, Daisy's had loads of guys chase after her with flowers and chocolates. She practically expects them from every male between 12 and 80. Why don't you just be yourself? Well, a slightly cleaner, less high version of yourself anyway. I think she likes that you're not like every other man she's been with."

Mason stared at her in disbelief. "I've bloody well been myself for the last six years and see where that's gotten me? Bloody nowhere, that's where. Although… she has been less of a bitch lately. Maybe she's finally appreciating my charms after the way Cameron treated her, ya think?"

George glanced at her watch and groaned. "Ok, focus Mason." She slid the paper over to him. "There were three kids killed yesterday in an explosion. They should've been our reaps, but they weren't on our list and none of us were there to reap 'em. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I was hoping that since you've got an appointment out near the morgue that you could swing by and just check to see if their souls are popped? I don't want to leave them trapped if they're still in there."

"You're not thinking something funny's going on, are you? They were probably just grabbed by someone in another division for personal reasons. Like Rube with his daughter," Mason protested.

George shook her head. "No, if that were the case, I'd still have been notified. I'd get the name and pass it on to Brian in Natural Causes or Gina in Circulatory. We've each got a list of people close to a reaper should their appointment show up on our schedule."

"What about Plague Division?" Mason asked.

George snorted in amusement. "Are you kidding? No one even remembers the last time the Plague folks actually had a reap in Seattle. And since they get so few reaps, they tend to stick around even longer than we do. None of them has family still around. They mostly volunteer to help out overworked divisions during high turnover periods since they've got so much time on their hands, the lucky bastards."

"Hmm. That is weird then, innit? Alright, I'll have a look and escort any souls still hanging around into the million watt great beyond," Mason promised, "but you're buying breakfast tomorrow."

George rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. And thanks. But I've got to go, or I'll be late for Happy Time. Stop by when you're done and let me know how things went at the morgue, ok? Maybe Daisy'll be around and you can try dazzling her with your charm or something."

Mason brightened. "Sure thing, Georgie."

The two headed out of Der Waffle Haus and split up, each off to start the day's work.


	2. The Plot Thickens

A/N: When we last left off, George had discovered strange, unscheduled deaths and sent Mason off to investigate. [Perhaps not her best idea ever, but we'll give him the benefit of the doubt.] I've taken some liberties from here on out with the creation of an organizational structure and daily operating procedures for the reaping business. As far as I can recall, nothing directly violates anything shown in the series/film, but if it does- and feel free to let me know if it does!- just consider it AU because it will become crucial to the story, as will become quickly apparent in the next couple of chapters. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Still don't own DLM. Will continue to not own DLM through the rest of this story and beyond.

* * *

After a busy day of doing pretty much nothing at Happy Time, George pulled her beloved Mustang into the driveway of the house she and Daisy shared. Unlocking the door, George stepped inside, slipping her heels off and hanging her coat on the stair rail. She wandered into the kitchen intending to start cooking dinner, a responsibility that fell to her whenever she and Daisy didn't order take out or eat at the usual spot. Daisy's cooking skills, were, well… let's just say her strengths lay in entirely different directions.

She flicked on the light, only to jump back in surprise, just barely stifling the shriek inspired by Mason lurking in her dark kitchen.

"Heya, Georgie girl," he greeted her, as he pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge and proceeded to drink straight from the bottle.

"Jesus, Mason. What the hell are you doing here? And stop that! At least use a glass." She shoved one at him from the cupboard next to the fridge.

Winking at her, he ignored her outstretched arm, took a few more swigs of juice and calmly capped it and set it back in the fridge. "Hey now, you're the one who told me to stop by later."

"I meant when I was home! I didn't mean for you to break into my house and contaminate all my food." Grimacing, she pulled the OJ back out and handed to him. "You might as well finish it, I'm certainly not drinking it now."

"Score, free juice. And I didn't break in, you know. Daisy let me in. She's upstairs doing some sort of feminine beauty… thing. To be honest, I didn't really ask for specifics. There was mud involved," he shuddered.

George piled chicken breasts and veggies on the counter and began preparing some stir fry while Mason watched intently, trying to figure out how to finagle a dinner invite. "Fine. So what did you find out at the morgue?"

Mason turned his attention from the food and back to his boss. "Well, I don't know who did it or why, but they'd definitely been popped, so somebody reaped 'em. Are you sure it wasn't somebody from another division?"

"Nope, I double checked with the other heads while I was at work. I even tried the Plague and Pets divisions. Nobody seems to know anything about it. Something isn't right here. I just wish I knew what it was," she muttered. Giving the stir fry one final stir, she took it off the heat and began dishing it out onto three plates. Mason's eyes grew wide and hopeful. George rolled her eyes and shoved the plates at him. "Whatever. Make yourself useful and grab some silverware and set the table."

Moving towards the stairs, she called up to Daisy that dinner was ready if she wanted to eat. As she made her way back to the kitchen, a loud and authoritative knock resounded from the front door. "Hey Mason, grab another plate and dish out what's left in the pan, it looks like Roxy's joining us." Pulling open the front door, George found herself practically run over as an anxious and upset Roxy plowed through the doorway before starting to pace the length of the hallway.

"Roxy?" George questioned tentatively, afraid of sparking off an explosion of angry cop-woman. "Why don't you tell me what's going on? We've got food, come in and eat."

Roxy allowed herself to be steered towards the kitchen. She exchanged nods with Mason and sank into the seat she always claimed at the table when they all gathered at the house. Daisy wandered in, the light floral scent of her perfume permeating the air and making Mason sniff appreciatively. "You always smell so good, Daisy," he complimented.

To everyone's surprise and Mason's ecstatic delight, Daisy gave him what might have been called a shy smile on anyone else and murmured her thanks. Delicately sipping her wine, Daisy looked over to George. "Did you find out anything about those unscheduled deaths, Georgia?"

Roxy's eyes narrowed. "Unscheduled deaths? What do you mean, 'unscheduled deaths'? Deaths are always scheduled."

George swallowed before answering. "That's the thing. Three kids died in an explosion yesterday and we didn't have post-its for them. I sent Mason over to the morgue to make sure their souls weren't trapped, but somebody'd reaped them. But it wasn't anyone from one of the Seattle divisions. I'm not quite sure what's going on; upper management certainly didn't give me a heads up about anything like this happening."

If possible, Roxy's face had grown even more serious than usual. "I don't like this, kid. We got a call at the precinct about two murder victims today, and I know none of us had their appointments. I did the same thing and checked to see if they'd vacated the premises. It was just like those kids from yesterday. Dead body, no soul. And no assigned reaper as far as we know. That's why I came straight here after my shift ended."

George groaned and sank down in her seat. "Fuck. Why does shit like this always seem to be following me around? I guess I'll try and get a note to the higher ups and see if they'll deign to give us any answers. But I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, let's try and keep a watch on any unscheduled deaths." Her team nodded solemnly, agreeing to keep checking up on any more bodies that turned up. "Something about all this just doesn't seem right. You don't think... No, couldn't be," George muttered under her breath before dismissed the half-formed thought. The others looked at her inquisitively, but collectively agreed not to push it.

* * *

Later that night after Mason and Roxy had left, George penned a note to the shadowy figures of upper management asking about the five strange deaths and asking if she needed to be concerned about it. She pulled out the head reaper instruction manual, really more like one worn and type-written page with the procedures for assigning reaps, administering the annual self-evaluations, and submitting paperwork every 50 years*, as well as instructions for contacting upper management in the case of various sorts of emergencies. When she had received the single sheet along with a month's supply of yellow post-its when she'd been promoted to head reaper, she'd been convinced someone had fucked up and lost the rest of her manual. But then she'd found the same page folded up in the back of Rube's datebook. She had always assumed that Rube's knowledge about the job and his savvy approach to reaping and managing his team had come from knowing much more about how the whole death thing worked than the average reaper.

Turned out she'd been wrong about that. It was just Rube being Rube and doing what needed to be done. Since taking over, George had tried to follow his example, and in the first challenge facing her team under her leadership, George found herself wishing she had Rube around to talk to. Even in her first days as a reaper when she had continually rebelled against the system, Rube had been the person she turned to for guidance and to bounce questions and ideas off of.

After she'd gotten her life as an undead reaper mostly sorted out, she'd still found herself sticking around Der Waffle Haus with Rube long after the others had left, sometimes just sitting quietly, sometimes spiritedly debating anything and everything, and sometimes having quiet, serious discussions that she'd never really been close enough to anyone else to have. And although she'd grown closer to Roxy, Mason and Daisy over the years, in times like this, when she was confused or uncertain, she distinctly felt Rube's absence.

He had a no-bullshit, common sense approach to life- and the afterlife- that always helped her to put things in perspective. And he never let her get away with lying, to him or to herself. Even though she felt reasonably happy about how things had worked out with Reggie after Hudson Hart had died, George knew that if Rube were around she'd have handled things differently. Then again, if Rube were around, her reap wouldn't have gone so completely wrong and she wouldn't have spoken to her sister again in the first place. Regardless, she desperately wished he was around to bolster her confidence with his calm belief in her abilities. Something about these five deaths rubbed her the wrong way, and she had a strange feeling of foreboding.

Pulling out her cell phone, George followed the instructions on her sheet for "Suspicious Activity." She typed in a number and hit send, letting it ring 9 times before disconnecting. Then she waited three minutes and dialed it again. It picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" she asked tentatively. A bit disconcerted by the lack of response, George hoped she was doing this right and continued with the instructions. "George, External Influences, Seattle. 'Answers sought in the endless night, the lonely angel awaits its marching orders," she spoke the code phrase indicating she had a letter for the higher ups and was requesting a response. Why she couldn't just _say_ 'Hi, I have a question, what the hell is going on?' or 'I have a letter for you, can you pick it up and send me a response?' was beyond her, but then again, she'd figured out several years ago that with reaping, it was often better to just go with the system in place.

"Confirmed. Ten minutes," responded a strange breathy voice, neither feminine nor masculine, before immediately disconnecting the call.

George slowly lowered the phone and wandered over to the front door and took a seat on the steps so she could watch out the window next to the door. Ten minutes later, a shadow flickered across the window. George stood and carefully slipped the envelope with her note in it under the door. The shadow vanished and George retreated to bed, hoping tomorrow would bring some answers.

* * *

*A/N2: Before anyone points out that our favorite reapers had to file paperwork older than that in the episode "Vacation" (s1e13), Rube did mention that he was behind on his filing. For some reason I like the idea of Rube avoiding that particular task more than he should- and with his typing skills, I can't say I blame him.


	3. Communication

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading/alerting, especially to Lilyds for taking the time to review. I know things are moving a little on the slow side, but I promise it is all building towards... well, I can't tell you that or I'll spoil the surprise! But I promise that you are getting meaningful clues in these early chapters, and I'm trying to update chapters pretty quickly to make up for it. Do feel free to drop a review if there's anything you love/hate/whatever. As far as this chapter goes, I have a confession to make: the closest I've come to Seattle is a trip to Vancouver, so places mentioned were nabbed off of Google maps, but are hopefully somewhat plausible.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing DLM to play with for awhile. I promise to return everyone's favorite merry band of reapers in the same condition I found them in.

* * *

George had a theory that she was destined to be disappointed in both life and death. If she'd been hoping for some insight from upper management, it was only natural that she wouldn't get any. Instead of answers to her questions or any kind of instruction, George found only her team's list of appointments and a small envelope. Inside, she found a summons to a regional meeting of the division heads to take place that evening. Luckily for her, the leaders of the Pacific Northwest divisions were to meet in Seattle, quite near Der Waffle Haus at 8 pm. She'd be able to meet the others for dinner and head to her meeting from there.

She quickly wrote out the day's post-its, stuck them in Rube's book and got ready for her day. She had the day off from Happy Time and had planned to use the time to catch up on errands and chores around the house, but found herself scheduled for a joint reap with Mason at a park on the outer edge of their jurisdiction. They'd need the extra time to get there and back. She pulled on jeans and a sweater, hoping there were no more suspicious and unexplained deaths today. Then it struck her as she was pulling her hair back: what if this meeting was because of her note? Was something really serious going on- serious enough to call a meeting of all of the head reapers in the Pacific Northwest? She had a hard time thinking she'd stumbled onto something so big before the higher ups, but what if she had? And what if it wasn't limited to Seattle, but was happening elsewhere as well? George shrugged her shoulders. Even if it was, there was no use worrying about it now. Doubtless whatever was going on would be explained at this meeting.

Grabbing a jacket and her keys, she hollered at Daisy to get a move on or she'd be late before heading out the door and driving to their morning meeting. She'd gotten a head start on her French toast before Mason arrived. Chewing, she wordlessly handed him a sticky note, making sure to point at the ETD. He nodded in understanding and flagged Kiffany over to get him some eggs and bacon. When his food arrived at the same time as Daisy and Roxy, he spared them a quick, "Morning, loves," before digging into his eggs.

"Got an early reap there, Mason?" Daisy asked after she and Roxy had ordered.

George handed post-its to the other women. "Mason and I have a joint over on Vashon Island and we'll need to head out soon to get there in time."

"Find out anything on those five deaths?" Roxy questioned as she dripped syrup on her pancakes.

George sighed. "I wish. No, but there's a meeting of the division heads tonight. Maybe I'll find out something then." She dropped money on the table for her and Mason's portion of the bill as he winked at her across the table. George just rolled her eyes at him.

Next to her, Roxy had a thoughtful expression. "A meeting of the division heads? That's unusual."

George turned to her. "Really? I figured that they happened pretty regularly and Rube just never told us about them."

Roxy shook her head. "Nope. In fact, I'm pretty sure there hasn't been one since Betty, well, you know. She caused a bit of an uproar with that, especially since no new reaper popped into existence to take her place."

Across from her, Daisy nodded thoughtfully. "I remember that. It caused a lot of discussion, even in New York. No one was quite sure how an extra reaper would be created. As I recall, someone in the Midwest managed to reap a husband and wife simultaneously before passing on, turning them both into reapers. Isn't that romantic?"

Roxy shot her a small glare. "Unless they hated each other and are now stuck together for way longer than most marriages. Unless one of them managed to get a transfer. Anyway, a meeting of the reapers isn't exactly an everyday occurrence, so something big must be up."

George stared at the small envelope with the details of the meeting. "Huh," was all she could think to say. "Well, I guess I'll find out tonight." She pulled on her coat and prepared to stand up. Roxy let her out of the booth and then resumed eating. "Come on, Mason, we'd better get going if we're going to catch the right ferry." Turning to the other two women, George requested that they keep a watch out for any more unscheduled bodies turning up and to meet back here for dinner later. Roxy nodded and waved George and Mason off and returned her attention to her breakfast.

George and Mason headed towards George's Mustang for the drive to the pier to catch the ferry to Vashon. They listened to the radio in silence, until a news story caught their attention.

"Following in the wake of the tragic deaths of three university students on Wednesday, yet another student was found dead this morning, apparently killed by armed robbers when the student interrupted a theft in progress in one of the university's biology labs. The name of the victim has not yet been released, but police are actively investigating this robbery-turned-murder. Police are requesting that anyone who might have seen something or who knows something about the attack call their hotline at 555-4339. Again, that's 555-4339. The university is planning a candlelight vigil and remembrance ceremony for tomorrow night; let's all just hope that this is the end of the tragedy. In other news…"

George looked at Mason with wide eyes. He grimaced. "I'll call Roxy then. She can look into it, maybe get on the case and find out something useful." George nodded and pulled into the line of cars waiting to make the ferry crossing.

Once the ferry had docked on Vashon Island, it was a quick drive to the park for their reaps. George and Mason planted themselves on a bench with fifteen minutes to spare and immediately began assessing risk factors. The park was fairly empty at 11 am on a Friday morning. A few mothers watched young kids on the playground, and occasionally someone walked by with a dog.

At 11:04, two middle-aged women in track suits jogged past George and Mason and settled down on a bench ten feet away. A man walking a dog stopped in front of them. "Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Colgrave," he greeted them and stopped to chat.

"That's them." George flicked her eyes towards a graveling clambering over a set of monkey bars a few feet away. She watched as it loosened a few screws and began swinging back and forth, making the whole thing start to shake.

The man with the dog started to walk away, waving goodbye to the two older women, who stood up and started walking back towards the parking lot, their path taking them right under the now unstable monkey bars. George and Mason brushed past them, popping their souls and waiting from the sidelines. When the two women were directly under the bars, the graveling hopped, sending the whole thing crashing down on them. George swore the thing winked at her as it vanished into smoke and disappeared. _'Well that wasn't creepy at all_,' she thought.

The two souls appeared in front of them and Mason smiled charmingly and took each of them on an arm and led them towards two glittering sets of lights. Job complete, the two reapers headed back to the city, stopping for lunch along the way. George dropped Mason off and figured she had time to do a couple of errands before meeting everyone back at Der Waffle Haus. She picked up some groceries, and headed home. She'd unlocked the door, put the groceries away and had started vacuuming when her cell phone rang.

She glanced at it to see who was calling and answered as she recognized the caller as Brian, the head of the local Natural Causes division. "Hey Brian, what's up?" she questioned as she continued to straighten up the living room one-handed.

"Hey there dead girl. I assume you got the invite to the regional meetin' tonight?"

She settled on the sofa. "Yeah, I did. I hear those aren't exactly common either. Any idea what it's about?"

Brian paused before answering. "Actually, I wonder if it doesn't have somethin' to do with those deaths you called me about earlier. Did you tell the uppers about it?"

"Yeah… should I not have…?" her voice faded with uncertainty. "I just thought… maybe they'd know if it was something to be concerned about."

Brian was quick to reassure her. "No, I think you did the right thing. And this meetin' might be about something else- it might just be a coincidence, you know? But if somethin' really is goin' on, the sooner there's a plan to deal with it, the faster it'll all get resolved. Anyway, I gotta go. Want me to save you a seat tonight?"

"That'd be really… nice. Thanks, Brian."

He laughed, "Sure, no problem George. I'll see you later."

"Yep. Later." As she hung up, George noticed the envelope near the front door.

Frowning, she picked it up and studied it. There was nothing written on the outside, and it was a different style and color than those used by for the reap lists. She peeled back the flap and slid out a single sheet of paper. Written in splattered blood-red ink- at least, she totally hoped that was ink- the scrawled message read, "Your interference is not appreciated. Keep out of other people's business, dead girl."


	4. Preparation and Anticipation

AN: Hello world!

So life happened for... several years... but I'm trying to get back into writing, if only because I really enjoyed this story while I was working on it. In the process of trying to get back into it, I did some rereading and realized that somehow I managed to skip a chapter in the upload process. So I've reinserted this where it should have gone and renumbered chapters accordingly. I think it still (mostly) made sense without it, but this helps clear up a few things and smoothes out what was a really jarring chapter break. New chapters to come soon :)

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As she pushed open the door to Der Waffle Haus, George felt like the warning note was burning a hole through her pocket, where it rested like an ominous signal of impending shit about to hit the proverbial fan. She supposed she should have expected it; things always did seem to go to hell sooner or later. She nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt, trying to smooth away the non-existent wrinkles. George would never admit it- well, ok, maybe she would have, but only to Rube, so no admitting would be occurring tonight- but the impending reaper meeting was making her nervous.

This was the first time she'd be required to do more than write and distribute sticky notes since she'd been promoted. What did you even wear to a meeting of the heads of the reaper divisions? It wasn't like she could exactly be fired, unless her team went batshit crazy again and decided to cut her up into tiny pieces and burn them, but she figured she should try not to look like a slob. She'd settled for something a little less formal than the suits she donned for Happy Time, but a little nicer than the jeans and t-shirts she usually wore on her days off. Her dark teal silk blouse offset her dark blonde hair and at least made her look like a confident division head, even if she was fighting to control the nervous trembling in her hands.

Daisy and Roxy were already at the table, and Roxy got up to let George slide in. George perused the menu while Daisy chattered on about the movie theater's various events promoting the 70th anniversary of Gone with the Wind and Roxy just looked bored. When Mason finally arrived, he had a certain manic grin on his face that George was sure signaled trouble.

"Mason, whatever the fuck you did, it'd better not cause more trouble for me. I do not want to have to bail you out of jail again this week," George observed dryly.

Mason adopted his wounded puppy face. "Hey now, Georgie, that's not very nice. I did you a favor, I did. Looked into that murder we heard about. I figured some acquaintances of mine might have heard something about a job over at the uni. Don't you want to know what I found out?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah, I do. Spill."

"Well, that's just it. No one knows anything about anything going on there. None of the regular crews were involved, and the lab that got hit has enough security to deter any one operating without an experienced crew."

Roxy broke in, "Yeah, and the police haven't found anything- all we've got to go on is the bullet that killed the guy- just a basic nine millimeter. But the soul was popped, just like all the others. And there's still no leads on the other two murders- both strangulations. So now we're up to six bodies and still no answers."

Daisy tsked. "This just gets stranger and stranger. I do hope they tell you something at this meeting of yours, Georgia. Maybe we're worrying over nothing," she added hopefully.

The other three didn't share her optimism. "I don't know what it is, but I have a really bad feeling about this. Have since I read that first article. I just think there's something going on, and it's not good," George murmured. After glancing around to make sure Kiffany wasn't coming over to the table, she pulled out the note she'd gotten that afternoon. "And I'm pretty sure this proves something nasty is going on."

Leaning forward to pick it up, Mason extended his hand and promptly got smacked with the flat side of Roxy's butter knife. "Are you fucking stupid? Don't touch it, there might be prints on it. I'll take it down to the station and see if I can lift any and run them through the computer." She pulled an evidence bag from a pocket and carefully refolded the note and slide it into the bag using the tip of her knife to avoid adding her own prints to it.

"I didn't even think of that," George sighed. "There's an envelope at home too; I didn't touch it as much so you might have better luck with it. Daisy can let you in if you want to take a look. I left it on the kitchen table."

Roxy nodded. "How'd you get this, anyway?"

"It was waiting for me when I got home this afternoon. Someone'd slipped it under the front door."

"They know where we live?!" Daisy gasped. "Haven't we had enough crazy people running through that house?"

George shrugged. "Somehow I think we will _always_ have crazy people crossing our path. It seems to be our destiny or some shit."

Daisy still looked worried, so Mason volunteered to crash on the couch so that Daisy and George would have another reaper on their side in case anything should happen. Daisy's eyes grew wide at his offer and she positively cooed at him. "Mason, what a kind offer. Your protection would be most appreciated."

Roxy snorted. "Some protection. Tell you what, I'll stay over in the guest room tonight, that way at least someone there will have a gun and know how to use it. I think we all know how useful- or not- Mason is in a fight."

George nodded her thanks to the gun-toting cop. They spent the rest of the meal conversing about the day's reaps. Daisy'd had a particularly nasty one involving a hardware store power tool demonstration gone horribly, horribly awry. When 7:45 rolled around, George stood to head down the street to her meeting just a block down in a non-descript office building.

"Well, wish me luck. Hopefully I don't make an ass out of myself," she said in farewell.

Mason and Daisy smiled encouragingly, while Roxy hit her with, "Oh shut it, dead girl. All you have to do is sit there and pay attention. And then come right back here and tell us everything that happens."

And with that to bolster her confidence, George grinned and headed off to her first regional reaper meeting.


	5. Make New Friends

A/N: Ok, I'll admit it. I'm kind of excited about this chapter. I'd be more excited if you left me a review and let me know what you think? Pretty please? I'll be posting the whole thing either way, but reviews help me to write better! OK, here we have most of the major characters introduced, and a sort-of-but-not-really cliffhanger and I can't wait to post the next chapter to resolve it. I still need to go over it again and make corrections, but it'll be up in the next couple of days. Enough babbling from me; hope you enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: Blah blah, not mine, blah blah. Except for Brian and Gina. They're mine. Also, I was thinking about this: initially, a new reaper will be in whatever division their death fell into because they were the last reap of someone in that division. And we know reapers can transfer- Daisy & Penny both did. But does that mean that there are decrepit 90 year-olds wandering around reaping for the Natural Causes/Old Age division? Cuz that would kinda suck.

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A steady stream of invectives passed through George's lips as she huffed and puffed her way up to the thirteenth floor, cursing reapers, meetings, shitty office buildings, and elevators that were fucking out of order. She slammed open the door from the stairwell to the hallway with more force than was strictly called for, feeling somewhat satisfied when it rebounded off the wall with a crunch as the door handle tore into the drywall.

Standing near the door, a decent looking guy with brown hair and bright green eyes smirked at her. George thought he looked like a stereotypical college boy- maybe 22 or 23 when he died. Not bad looking either, she mused. When he caught her eyeing him, a knowing grin spread across his face as he teased her. "I take it you enjoyed the stairs?" he drawled with a touch of a soft southern accent, gesturing to the hole in the wall the door handle had made.

"You're fucking hysterical, funny man," George panted as she deliberately looked away from him and tried to catch her breath.

He chuckled and stepped forward to grab her arm. "Come on, Toilet Seat Girl. I saved you a seat just like I promised."

George froze in her tracks, bringing the man up short as he found her no longer with him. "YOU'RE Brian?" George exclaimed in disbelief.

He frowned. "What, expectin' someone else? It's not like we've never spoken before."

She spluttered. "But… but you're so young! And you sounded different on the phone the like _five times_ I talked to you. Your voice sounded higher and the accent wasn't as noticeable," she insisted. Then she frowned. "And don't call me Toilet Seat Girl!"

That prompted an outright laugh from him. "George, have you looked in a mirror lately? Besides, if we're countin' time spent as a reaper, believe me, I'm plenty old. You're the baby 'round here. I've never even heard of someone with less than twenty years reapin' experience to rise to team leader. You must've really impressed someone with how you handled the last disaster they appointed. Although come to think of it, he'd also only been reapin' a few years…" he trailed off.

"Sorry, I just wasn't expecting… this," she said, gesturing to him. "And I have to admit, I was really surprised the first time you called me. I always thought Penny was the head of Natural Causes. Just how long have you been dead, anyway?" George scrutinized his face as if she could somehow divine the answer by staring at him.

Brian chuckled, "I'm beginning to see why Rube had so many problems with you."

"Hey! I haven't been causing problems for years now!" she protested. "And I never _meant_ to cause Rube any of the numerous headaches I'm sure I gave him. To be fair, he did leave out a lot of the details when I first got this job. Like, 'By the way, George, you should always make your appointments on time because otherwise the soul will be trapped in the body and will have to experience its own autopsy.' Why the asshole thought issuing orders without explanations was a good way to handle my training, I'll never know."

Her fellow reaper clapped a hand over his mouth to hold in what looked like it wanted to turn into a full-on belly laugh as his eyes danced with mirth. "Well, I'll give you this, Toilet Seat Girl," he said as he caught his breath, "you sure do shake things up around here." Seeing her look, he hastened to clarify. "Not sayin' that's a bad thing. So much stays static in our world- same faces stickin' around for years and years, reapin' day in and day out for years on end… A gust of fresh air does us all good. To be honest, when the last Natural Causes head filled his quota, the powers that be wanted Penny for the job, but our Penny can be the most stubborn woman in the world if she gets it in her mind to, and she flat-out refused to take the job. She was still working for Rube at the time and liked where she was at. Insisted I'd be better at it anyway. Don't really know if she's right or not, but we've been doin' alright."

George smiled. "Well, any woman who continues to avoid ice even in her iced tea over ninety years after dying by iceberg has to be a little bit mule-headed." She snorted. "Hell, that's probably why we get along."

Brian squeezed her shoulder with a smile of understanding. "Might have somethin' to do with it. She also thinks you were good for Rube- gave him something to focus on besides his family after his daughter passed. Anyway, to answer your earlier question, I died in 1932 from leukemia- not that they really knew much about what it was back then or how to treat it- not that my folks could've afforded much in the way of treatin' even if they did. Farmin' wasn't the most lucrative of fields in the middle of the depression."

He waved aside George's muttered apology. "It was a long time ago. And my story's got nothin' on yours." Shaking his head, he got himself back on track. "Now, come on, we're gonna be late. You can grill me about my various life and death experiences later."

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He ushered her into a crowded conference room with six rows of chairs, nearly all filled by the head of a reaper team and a projector illuminating a screen in the front with the words, "Special Investigation," displayed across it in angry bold letters. After talking to Brian, George felt much calmer about the meeting and allowed herself a small smile at the thought of some ghostly shadow temping for upper management and creating a PowerPoint presentation for reaper meetings. Delores could give them some tips for making it more engaging. She had to stifle a chortle at the mental image of Delores leaning over a shadow and offering suggestions as it worked on slides.

Brian led her to two unoccupied seats near the back next to an older woman in her sixties with curly iron-grey hair tumbling to her shoulders and piercing black eyes that glittered in the dim light of the room. As George sat in the seat next to her with Brian taking the seat on the end, the woman smiled and held out her hand.

"You must be Georgia Lass. I'm Gina Colgrave, Seattle Circulatory. We've spoken a time or two."

George smiled and shook her hand. "Hi Gina. It's good to meet you and put a face to the voice on the phone."

Gina laughed. "It is at that. And I see you met our resident charmer, here. I swear, that smooth drawl of his… he gets all the girls chasing after him in a matter of minutes. Doesn't help that he's actually a gentleman too- holds doors open, pulls out chairs..."

Looking uncomfortable, Brian went for the obvious subject change and gestured at the screen, the tips of his ears already blazing red. "Hey look, looks like we'll be discussin' your missin' reaps after all," he proclaimed a little too loudly.

The two women smiled conspiratorially and went along with his diversionary tactic. George decided she liked Gina and Brian. They were both friendly, and they'd been more than helpful when she first got promoted, explaining how a list of reaps would be passed under her door by someone she would never see and it was her job to divvy the deaths up amongst her team. She'd always thought there was more to it than that, but aside from making the assignments and making sure nobody fucked up said assignments, that really was the extent of the job- well, that and periodic paperwork updates and the annual performance reviews. Somehow it'd always seemed like Rube was way more involved with things than that. Then again, her team had been uncharacteristically well-behaved after the shit hit the fan with Cameron. Even Mason had toned down his extracurricular activities.

"Hey, so how does this meeting thing work anyway?" George asked, as 8:00 pm came and went with no sign of someone to start the meeting.

Gina looked around the room. "We're still waiting on three people; it can be rough for out-of-towners to get to the meeting spot, especially when they're called on short notice like this. Once everyone's here, the regional manager will tell us whatever we're supposed to know and then we all file out and go follow our marching orders."

Brian nodded. "Guess we'll be meetin' the new guy today. Ricky got promoted a few months back."

"Really? I hadn't heard. Wonder who the new regional manager is then," Gina replied.

From her seat between them, George zoned out their speculations on who'd gotten the coveted regional head slot- "Too bad you didn't get it Gina, you were probably on the short-list of candidates, after all. I got no clue what exactly the regional head does, but Ricky always said it don't involve reapin' every day!"- and studied the other reapers around the room. She was the youngest in the room, and she'd bet she'd been a reaper the shortest time too if Brian was right.

The lights flickered on and then off again, bringing George's attention back to the meeting at hand. She noticed the last of the seats had been filled, and a shadowy figure stood at the front of the room. The same sort of expressionless, neutral voice that had responded when she'd phoned the higher ups began to speak.

"Good evening."

Stunned silence filled the room. George looked around her in confusion, sensing that something was different from usual regional meetings, the tension in the room evident.

George turned to look at Brian, who stared slack-jawed at the shadow and then swiveled to ask Gina what was going on. Gina shook herself and then whispered, "That's someone from upper. I've never actually seen anyone from upper management. The regional head is like us, just one rung up the middle management ladder. But _that_? _That's_ upper management." George found herself staring at the figure presiding over the meeting much like everyone else.

The voice continued, either oblivious to or uncaring about the shock flowing through the audience. "We have a situation on our hands," it began, as the projector changed to a new slide, this time displaying a blow up of the newspaper article that had first caught George's attention. She stiffened, realizing that she'd been right all along; something serious was going down. Other reapers stared at the figure in what looked like shock.

"There have now been six unscheduled deaths in the Seattle district. No appointments were made, no reapers assigned to them, yet they are dead and the souls are missing." The slideshow flipped through slides about the other victims too.

At that, the room buzzed with activity, as reapers turned to their neighbors and began theorizing. George, Gina, and Brian just watched in silence.

The shadowy figure waited a moment for the crowd to calm down. "This situation is most irregular and obviously must be resolved as soon as possible. I have been sent from upper management to convey the severity of this crisis and our determination to resolve this as quickly as possible to avoid the system becoming even more unbalanced. Before we launch a full-scale investigation, we wished to confirm that no one knows anything about these deaths. Have any of your reapers been a part of this?"

The screen showed a summary slide with a list of the dead and what information was available about their deaths. The proverbial cricket could have been heard in the complete and utter silence that reigned in the room for all of three seconds before everyone began vehemently denying involvement.

"Very well. Thus far, the erroneous deaths have been limited to the Seattle district and all would have fallen into the jurisdiction of the External Influences division had they been scheduled. All of you should monitor your areas, especially heads of External divisions. Follow the news and newspapers, watch for any strange deaths without an appointment and report them immediately. The new regional manager will be temporarily assigned to the Seattle External Causes division under George, who originally brought this matter to our attention. He will be investigating these deaths from there."

Wide-eyed, George stared at the figure in shock. Had they really not known any of this was happening before her note? Rube had always made it seem like upper management knew all and saw all. The figure inclined the blob where a head might be towards her in acknowledgement of her surprised stare before continuing, "A contact number will be distributed with your reap lists tomorrow. Any information you come across relevant to this matter should be reported to him. He will be keeping us apprised of the situation. Any questions?"

The crowd seemed to have been shocked into silence. The figure nodded. "Good. Then you are all dismissed. George, a moment please."

George looked at Gina and Brian in a bit of a panic. "Relax. They're probably just going to go over how you'll be working with the regional guy," Gina assured her.

Brian nodded and squeezed her arm. "I'll give you a call later and you can fill me, alright?" He waited for her to square her shoulders and nod bravely. "Alright. Keep that head up, girl," he encouraged as the two followed the rest of the reapers out the door.

George cautiously approached the shadowy figure at the front of the room. "Georgia Lass, your new investigative partner," he? she? it? intoned gravely as the lights came on and the shadow faded away right before her eyes.

George looked from side to side with one eyebrow cocked in confusion. Then a familiar voice sounded from behind her. "Hey there, Peanut."

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A/N2: Ok, admit it: who saw that coming before this chapter? Surely someone? I for one am happy he's back!


	6. But Keep the Old

A/N: Ok, I was bad and worked on polishing up this instead of doing actual productive work. But I was really excited that Rube was back, so I couldn't resist. And I should probably issue the following **!fluffalert!** Here there be fluff- George/Rube reunion fluff, group reunion fluff, Roxy/Rube reunion fluff- basically lots and lots of fluff. We'll get back to the "serious business" next chapter. Well, sort of. After a bit more fluff. And huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, but it'd be fun if they were.

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_**Last time:** George cautiously approached the shadowy figure at the front of the room. "Georgia Lass, your new investigative partner," he? she? it? intoned gravely as the lights came on and the shadow faded away right before her eyes._

_George looked from side to side with one eyebrow cocked in confusion. Then a familiar voice sounded from behind her. "Hey there, Peanut."_

George whirled around and stared at the figure standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a familiar smirk crossing his face. "Rube?" she breathed in shocked disbelief before throwing herself across the room and clutching his shoulders in a fierce hug.

Instead of an awkward pat on the back or something like she'd have expected from him, Rube wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back just as tightly. After a minute, George pulled back and swung her fist at his upper arm. "You jackass! We all thought you were gone, off to the great… whatever! Why the hell didn't you tell us you were still here among the undead?" she screeched as she hit him again.

Rube winced and rubbed his arm before smiling somewhat ironically. "I guess I should've expected that. You never did do well with change, Peanut."

At that, the fight went out of her and her eyes began to tear up. She blinked furiously, willing them away. Rube immediately pulled her back to his chest, stroking her back reassuringly. "Hey now, no need for that. I'm sorry you thought I was gone. That is generally what happens, I just got the dubious honor of moving one rung up the ladder so I could do pretty much exactly what I did before but on a larger scale. Who do you think has been sending you reap lists?"

"That was you?" George choked out, her voice rough with emotion as she fought to bring her tears under control.

"Yeah, Peanut, that was me." He loosened his hold on her and grasped her hand in his, leading her over to two seats. He sat her down beside him and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her head to rest against his shoulder. With his free hand, he gently wiped away the tears still glistening on her cheeks before leaning his head down to rest on top of hers. To his surprise, George suddenly burst into watery chuckles.

At his "Hmm?" of inquiry, she buried her head against his neck and confessed, "I've been thinking the last couple of days how much I wished you were here to talk all this through with me, help me sort it all out. Well, to be perfectly honest, I've been wishing you were here since the moment we thought you'd left, but this whole extra bodies thing really had me wishing you were here. And here you are."

Rube pressed a kiss against her hair at the crown of her head. "I missed you too, Peanut." She could hear the smile in his voice and found her own smile growing of its own accord. "But you've been doing a damn good job without me. Hell, you've done the impossible by keeping the other three out of trouble this long."

George nodded against his chest, her voice somewhat muffled by his jacket. "Wasn't so much me as it was Cameron scaring the shit out of 'em. I figure in another month or so things will be back to normal."

Rube tipped her head back so he could look her in the eye. "Speaking of that ass wipe, I want you to know I'm proud of you. You've pulled some really shitty stunts in the past, but you held it together, even better than Roxy."

She gave him a watery smile. "What can I say, I learned from the best. But it was weird as fuck when I suddenly became the responsible one. When the hell did that happen?"

Rube chuckled. "I'd say it's been coming on gradually the last few years. You've been growing up kid, and I'd say you've turned out pretty well."

At that, they sat in silence for a few minutes, just thinking and enjoying their reunion. Gathering her courage, George gave voice to the thought that had been plaguing her for the last few months. "You really think I did ok while you were gone? You're not mad at me for talking to my sister? She knows I'm a reaper now…" she confessed, avoiding his eyes in favor of focusing on the neckline of his dark green sweater.

Rube's response surprised her. With infinite gentleness- not something she was accustomed to from Rube- he gently raised her chin to force her to look at him. The look in his eyes was new too; along with the wisdom and caring she was familiar with, she saw something she thought might be pride and something she couldn't put a name to at all.

"Georgia," he said with slow deliberateness, "you handled a shitty situation as best you could. I couldn't have handled it better myself. We all get messed up where our families are concerned. And I think your talk with your sister gave you both some much needed closure. I just hope you didn't lose too many precious memories in the process."

He watched as the somewhat vacant expression that meant George was thinking deeply about something crossed her face. "You know," she mused, "I don't think I lost any. I didn't even think about that before."

Rube nodded slowly. "The powers that be must've known that both of you Lass girls needed to talk things out. After all, it was your presence that kept her from rescheduling her appointment early." After a few seconds of companionable silence, he stood with a huge grin, looking almost gleeful- if a man as stoic and solemn as Rube usually was could be called gleeful. "Now come on, I've been dying, excuse the pun, for a Banana Bonanza for four months now. We can work out how we're going to figure this mess out at Der Waffle Haus with the others." He offered her his hand to pull her to her feet and then placed his right hand on the small of her back to guide her from the building and down the block to their usual spot.

"Good idea. I didn't really eat much at dinner because I was on edge about the whole meeting thing. The others should still be there. I was going to meet with them after the meeting ended."

Sure enough, as they stepped through the door, they were greeted by a familiar sight. Roxy and Mason were arguing good naturedly about the merits of various types of pets, while Daisy idly flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally interjecting. None of them noticed George and Rube approach, only looking up when their shadows fell across the table. There was a moment of stunned disbelief, and then three very different voices exclaimed "What the fuck?" "Holy shit!" and "My word!" in unison.

Rube just smiled and ushered George into his old seat, Roxy having stood silently to let them slide in. He took the spot next to her and Roxy sat down on the end. If the others thought it strange that he let George take his seat, no one dared to comment. George had looked at him in confusion, thinking she'd give him his spot back, but his hand kept up a steady pressure on her back, guiding her in. While the others continued to stare at Rube in stunned disbelief, George looked up at him confused.

As he so often did, Rube seemed to read her mind and quietly informed her that she was head reaper at the table so she should get the seat of honor.

George shook her head, opening her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "I'm serious, Peanut. You've earned that spot and you can keep it." George snapped her mouth shut, the protest dying on her lips. Rube turned back to the other three reapers. "All right, sunshines. I'm not even going to go into how badly you all fucked up a few months back. I figure you've figured that out on your own. Now, my girl here has proven she's got a good head on her shoulders, and I want you all to try your damndest not to give her the same kind of headaches you always gave me. We clear?" He leveled a hard stare on each of them in turn until one after another his former charges dropped their eyes and mumbled their agreement. "Good. I'm here to figure out what the hell's been going on with those unscheduled deaths Peanut here was clever enough to uncover. So when I'm not out on a reap, I'll be looking into things and I'll need help from all of you. Can we try to actually work as a team for once and not a bunch of fuck-ups?"

His old team solemnly nodded at him. To his left, George piped up. "Roxy's already been monitoring what the police uncover about the murder victims. She can let you know what they find." He turned to Roxy and nodded his thanks to his old friend, who gave him a smile and a dismissive shrug.

"No problem, ex-bossman," Roxy replied flippantly. That broke the dam and suddenly everyone was talking at once.

Roxy, Mason and Daisy all wanted to know what he'd been doing all this time, and why the hell he'd abandoned them to the likes of Cameron. When Daisy asked as much, Rube could only shrug. "Wasn't my choice, Princess. Upper management doesn't really make promotions optional. And I'd told them from the beginning they should hand the post-its over to George, but they thought the ass wipe would bring useful management skills to the table."

George turned to him in shock, disbelief clearly written all over her face. Rube just draped an arm around her back and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. _Huh_, George thought, _well that was unexpected._

To her surprise, Roxy seconded his opinion. "Yeah, our girl here hasn't done too bad filling in your shoes," she said with a small smile and wink. George tentatively smiled back, privately relieved that Roxy didn't resent her for taking over the head reaper job, a fear she'd been unwilling to voice.

Conversation continued to flow for another hour, giving the separated group a chance to catch up. Rube had wanted the whole story of how they'd sent Cameron into space of all places, and his team had wanted to know about his new job. He couldn't tell them very much, just that he'd been moved up a rung in middle management to serve as Regional Manager and had been in Vancouver sorting out a mess there while they'd been sorting out their own messes with Cameron. Finally, as yawns started to overtake the whole group around midnight, they headed out, everyone piling into George's Mustang, with Roxy, Mason and Daisy squeezing into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat for Rube.

He had quirked an eyebrow at the continued presence of Mason and Roxy. George shook her head slightly, silently promising to explain everything later. He seemed to understand and leaned back in his seat, taking in the familiar sights of what had been home until recently.

Once they'd arrived at the house, Daisy led Roxy upstairs to get her situated in the guest room, while George converted the couch in the living room into a sleeper bed. "I'm sorry, guys, but this is the last bed we've got left. The recliner's not too bad to sleep on; I've fallen asleep in front of the TV in it a few times." Then she looked up at Rube uncertainly, "Unless you'd rather go back to your apartment, of course."

"If it's ok with you, I'll crash here. I'm sure my apartment's long since been taken over by someone else. And I'm sure Mason doesn't mind the recliner." He smiled at the younger man somewhat evilly.

Mason decided he was too tired to argue. Besides, he'd never won an argument with Rube anyway, so he just plopped down on the chair. "Sure thing, bossman. Wake me up in time for breakfast," he requested before leaning back and pulling the lever to recline the chair. Thirty seconds later, Rube and George just watched in bemusement as Mason started snoring.

"Mason, Mason, Mason," George said with a grin.

"Kid always could sleep anywhere," Rube agreed. "But so help me, if he climbs into bed with me again I'll fucking kill him in his sleep."

George snickered. "Again? Do I want to know?"

Rube glanced at her. "It was that time he got high off his ass- literally- smuggling drugs. I took him home and left him passed out on the floor with a blanket and a pot to throw up in, only to have him climb right into bed with me three hours later. Fucker tried to cuddle me," he finished disgustedly. George just tried not to laugh.

Turning his back on Mason, Rube led George over to the kitchen table and sat her down next to him. "Alright Peanut, I've been patient. Want to tell me why the hell everyone is crashing at your place tonight? I assume this hasn't become a regular occurrence for all of you."

She nodded. "You'd guess right." Sighing, George reached for the threatening note before remembering she'd given it to Roxy earlier. "Hang on, I'll be right back," she told Rube before flying up the stairs.

"Hey Roxy, do you think I could show that note to Rube? I know you wanted to check for prints, but…"

Roxy handed her the bag with the note in it without protest. "Go ahead. I already dusted for prints and all that came up were yours. I'll try the envelope tomorrow, but I doubt we'll get anything off of it." George nodded her thanks and then dashed back down the stairs to return to Rube, who looked at her quizzically. She just handed him the evidence bag.

He examined it silently. "What's this?" he finally prompted when George showed no sign of explaining it.

"Open it."

He did, pulling the folded sheet of paper out and then gingerly unfolding it. His eyes widened as he quickly read the message. He grabbed her wrist tightly. "Where… how… when…" he stuttered. He finally settled on, "Explain, Peanut," his eyes dark and serious.

She told him about coming home from doing the grocery shopping and finding it on the floor inside the doorway and then showing it to the others at the diner. He eyed it critically. "Maybe we can find finger prints or something."

George sighed. "Already on it. Roxy said there weren't any on the paper besides mine, but she's going to check the envelope it came in tomorrow, just in case." He asked to see the envelope and she just pointed at a plain white legal-sized envelope sitting near his elbow. Careful not to touch it with his fingers, Rube used the letter to lift it up to look at the back. "Hmm. It's probably clean too."

"Probably," Roxy answered as she entered the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and took a seat at the table with them.

"So you and Mason are here for tactical support then?" Rube directed his question to Roxy.

She nodded. "Yeah, Daisy was pulling her usual damsel-in-distress routine, and you know Mason just eats that shit up like it's candy. But with what's been going on, I figured it probably wasn't a bad idea to have an armed cop around just in case."

The former boss had to agree. "If you and Daisy don't mind," he addressed George, "it might not be a bad idea for all of us to set up shop here until we have this thing sorted out. I don't like this threat business or the fact that they know where you live."

George shrugged. "It's fine with me, assuming you all chip in for groceries. I'd have to double check with Daisy, but I don't think she'd have a problem with it. I'll ask her in the morning," she finished with a huge yawn.

Before separating to their various rooms for the night, Roxy gave Rube one of her rare hugs. "It's good to have you back, Rube."

He favored her with a real smile, his hands still loosely grasping her shoulders. "It's good to be back, Roxy, definitely good to be back. Now we'd all best be getting some sleep. I imagine the next few days are going to be busy."

He always had had a talent for understatement.

* * *

A/N2: Fluff fluff fluffity fluff :)


	7. Time to Wake Up

A/N: Hey everybody. First off, huge thanks to everyone who's been lurking, reviewing, and alerting. All the nice reviews have totally made my week. That said, today's my birthday and reviews are awesome. Just throwing that out there! :) Our merry band of reapers needed one more chapter of "yay we're all together again," but we're also shifting back into detective mode here. Enjoy~

Disclaimer: Sadly, nobody got me the rights to DLM for my birthday.

* * *

Creeping down the stairs at 6:30 the next morning, George nervously clutched the datebook she'd appropriated from Rube's apartment as she made her way into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. To her surprise, half a pot of hot coffee was already sitting on the counter. She figured Rube must've beaten her to it, since there was no way in hell Mason was up already. It was a good day when Mason managed to show up for their morning meeting less than ten minutes late. She filled her favorite mug, a bright blue one Mason had gotten her for Christmas shortly after she'd been promoted. He had been practically in tears he was laughing so hard as he presented it to her, ridiculously pleased that he'd found a mug that said, "I'm the boss. Shut up and do what I say." In retrospect, it was the group's laughter over that mug that had brought her team together as her team, drawing Roxy back from wherever she had withdrawn to and pulling Daisy out of her black mood following her failed stage performance.

After stirring in some milk and a spoonful of sugar, George tucked the small brown leather book under her arm and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, letting the warmth seep into her hands before moving silently towards the living room. She stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before her; Mason still snoring away, a couch pillow hugged tightly to his chest, while Rube sat on the sofa, quietly going through the newspaper he must have fetched from the driveway. He sensed her watching him and glanced up, smiling in greeting. He folded the newspaper back up and stood, gesturing her towards the kitchen, where they could sit at the kitchen table to talk without disturbing Mason.

"Morning, Peanut," he said, as he refilled his coffee cup and started another pot of coffee brewing. George had snagged the newspaper towards her, scanning the headlines.

"Morning. Any new developments overnight?" she asked, sipping her coffee as he settled down across from her.

He blew on the coffee to cool it a bit before taking a drink. "No, at least not here. I'll have to check out the news from further out, just to make sure whatever's going on hasn't spread outside the city."

His former protégé nodded. "Makes sense." She glanced at her watch and then started to move towards the front door for the list of reaps. Rube stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Sit. I've got it right here," he said, pushing a sheet of paper over towards her. "Since I'm here anyway, the delivery boy won't be dropping off an envelope for you."

She stared at the sheet. "Oh, of course. I should've thought of that. I guess I forgot that the daily reaps came from you." She stared at her hands resting in her lap for a minute while she gathered the courage to speak. Finally looking up, she met Rube's curious gaze. "I, um, have something of yours that I should probably give back. And not have had in the first place. But, well…" she trailed off and held his book out for him to take.

A small smile unlike anything she'd ever seen before spread across his face and his eyes softened. "You've been using my book?" he asked incredulously in a soft tone she'd only ever heard once or twice before.

George shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, after you were… gone, we broke into your apartment. We figured you wouldn't mind, and some squatter would've taken things anyway. I just… well, I didn't know how to be head reaper, and Cameron had shown us just how fucked up things could get with a bad leader, and I figured… well, I figured you were the best reaper I ever knew, and I could do worse than to follow your example. I thought maybe your planner would give me some hints on what to do. I'm sorry I stole it."

Rube shook his head, eyes shining. "Don't be, I'm not. You should keep it. I'm honored, Peanut, and I'm glad I could help, at least a little."

She stared at him for a minute, trying to judge his expression, then gave up and decided to accept him at his word. "Ok… thanks. You're sure you're not mad?"

He chuckled. "No, Peanut. In fact, I'm the opposite. I didn't think you fuckers would give a shit," he said, smiling affectionately to take the sting out of his words. "And to be completely honest, it's nice to know I was missed, at least a little."

"Seriously?" George frowned at him. "It took us a whole day to finally accept that you were really gone, and even then we kept talking about how none of the shit that went down would've happened on your watch." She sighed and set her mug down. "And when the fucking post-its from heaven came raining down on me, all I could think was that I needed a #6 with orange juice and a talk with you to figure this shit out. So I did the next best thing and robbed your apartment." She chuckled. "And then, I saw this," she gestured to the book, "on your table, and it just seemed… right. Like maybe I could do this with your help, you know?"

Serious again, he reached for her hand and wrapped his long fingers around hers. "I'm sorry kid. I didn't have the choice to stay. And I missed our talks at Der Waffle Haus too. But you've been handling things, Peanut, and doing a damned good job of it too, just like I knew you would."

She gave him a tremulous smile and squeezed his hand. "Did you really tell them that I should be the next head reaper?"

"I said I did, didn't I?" he told her seriously.

"I know, I just… _Why?_"

He shrugged. "Because I knew you'd be good at it." His thumb traced a gentle pattern over the back of her hand as he attempted to answer her question. "You've learned to take your job seriously, unlike Mason or Daisy. Roxy could've done it in a pinch, but she's by the books, inflexible. Death doesn't always follow a fucking rule book. Not to say that there aren't rules, but you're flexible enough to adapt to changing circumstances, like with that boyfriend of your sister's. Roxy isn't. She's responsible and thorough and reliable, and if I'd gotten that promotion a few years back, chances are she'd be head reaper. But this you? Grown up George is the better candidate. You should know how that works, you work at a fucking temp agency."

"Oh, shut up, asshole," she teased back. "And thanks, Rube."

He squeezed her hand before releasing her fingers and leaning back in his chair with a grin. "So…" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes, "how'd you like the post-its?"

George stared at him for a minute before it clicked and she grasped his meaning. "Let me guess," she said dryly, "the fucking rain cloud of post-its was your idea?"

He just smiled smugly. George rolled her eyes at him. "You think you're so funny, don't you?" Then her serious expression cracked and a smile crept across her face. "At the time, it was Not Funny. At all. But in retrospect… ok, maybe a little funny. And damned appropriate." Current and former team leader both chuckled and then returned their attention to their respective tasks.

She slipped the rubber bands off his book- no, her book now- and started copying in the day's reaps and sorting out assignments for her team. George glanced across the table and bit the top of her pen nervously.

"What is it?" Rube asked, not looking up from the crossword he had started working on.

She slipped the pen from between her teeth, biting her lower lip instead. "It's just… well, you said yesterday you were going to be doing reaps. Were you serious?"

He looked at her, face solemn. "Of course. You've been short a reaper, and while I'll be doing some poking around on the side, I'm your fifth team member while I'm here."

She nodded. "Alright then. If you're sure? Like, it won't be weird or anything having me assign you reaps?" she asked dubiously.

He just gave her his patented 'Don't be stupid, I've already told you once. Don't make me repeat myself' look and returned his attention to his crossword. George tried to hold in the giggles, but a strangled laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Rube crooked an eyebrow at her, patiently waiting for her to get herself under control and explain just what the fuck was so funny.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped, trying to hold off another bout of giggling. "It's just… it occurred to me that I've even missed your grouchy faces!" she burst out laughing again.

Amusement and exasperation warred for dominance on his face, but amusement finally won and he cracked a small smile, regarding her affectionately. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I missed your fucked up sense of humor."

George just grinned unconcernedly at him and wrote out one last post-it before standing and heading towards the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for breakfast. Rube reached past her to take the cartoon of eggs from her hand. "Go get ready for work and see about waking the rest of the merry band up. I'll handle breakfast."

She nodded agreeably and started up the steps, saving Mason for last. Deciding a quick shower would be a good idea before the others woke up and the line for the bathroom started, George made a beeline for the bathroom and quickly turned the shower tap to start the water flowing. She flicked the switch for the fan to dissipate the steam that had already started fogging up the mirror and shucked out of her pajamas before hopping into the shower and relaxing under the soothing spray.

She let herself have a few minutes to just enjoy the relaxing feeling of the water hitting her shoulders and then briskly washed and shampooed her hair and scrubbed the rest of her clean. After wrapping a towel around her wet hair and tugging on her blue plush robe, she paused in front of Roxy's door on the way to her own bedroom. She rapped her knuckles against the door and, after receiving no reply, cautiously turned the knob. "Roxy? Are you awake?"

The dark haired woman was barely visible, buried beneath a sea of blankets with only the top half of her face and her wild curls poking out. But as George crept closer, one of the floor boards made the slightest squeak and suddenly George found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Um, hi Roxy. Just me, you know, your friend George?" she said, standing stock still to allow Roxy time to wake all the way up.

"Shit, sorry George," she said, lowering the gun to the nightstand. "Reflex," she explained. "Getting killed by someone creeping up on you while you're sleeping makes you a real light sleeper."

"S'ok, no harm done. I just thought you might want at the shower before Daisy wakes up and commandeers it for the next hour and a half. Rube's already started in on breakfast. There's shampoo and soap and stuff in there, just help yourself. Towels are in the closet."

Roxy nodded. "Alright, I'll be down soon. Give me ten minutes before you wake up the beauty queen, would ya?"

George promised to do so, and withdrew to her own room to get ready. She quickly dried her long blonde hair and tossed half of it back and up with a hairclip before pulling on a green dress shirt and a pair of dark gray slacks. On her way out the door, she grabbed a matching gray blazer and carried it with her downstairs. She tossed it over a chair near the front door and then walked down the hallway to Daisy's room. With the resigned affection born of living with the self-proclaimed drama queen for the past six years, George unhesitatingly strode into the room and pulled the curtains open, sending light flooding towards the bed. Then she slipped Daisy's sleep mask up, allowing the light to assault her roommate.

"Geoooooorgiaaaaaa!" Daisy wailed, trying to turn over to escape the light. George just let the mask snap back into place, used to this morning ritual they shared. "Up, Daisy. We've got things to do. Breakfast should be ready soon, so you might want to hurry up and get ready if you want any. You know how Mason is with food."

A dramatic sigh worthy of an Oscar issued for the sleeper's lips. "Oh fine, but don't expect me to be gracious about it. A beautiful actress needs her beauty sleep, you know."

George just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Princess. You gonna get up or what?" She knew if she left before Daisy was vertical, she would just roll over and sleep for another hour or two. Or three.

Daisy slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "There, I'm up? Are you happy now, you evil girl?"

Laughing, George tossed Daisy her hairbrush. "Oh I'm ecstatic. You know my day just doesn't start until I see your smiling face."

Daisy just huffed at her as she worked the knots out of her light hair. "I see someone's in a good mood today," she commented before gathering up the necessary items for her morning make up ritual. "And I must say, it is a pleasant change. You've been all intense and serious for the past forever. You know, that kind of prolonged attitude will give you wrinkles," she winked, pointed at her roommate's forehead.

"Uh-huh. Well I'm going to get breakfast. Try not to take forever…" George said as she made her escape.

Rube was still dancing around the kitchen, reminding George of the time he had filled in at Der Waffle Haus after the cook died. She watched him silently for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of having the group back together again. Then she cleared her throat. "Anything I can help with?"

Glancing up as he expertly flipped pancakes, Rube pointed a spatula towards a stack of dishes and cutlery on the counter. "Why don't you get the table set and pour some juice?"

Table set, she poured a cup of coffee, added some sugar, and carried it over to the living room. Carefully setting it on the table, she grabbed Mason's foot and gave it a sharp tug. "Five more minutes, Mum," he slurred, turning over underneath his blanket. Undeterred, she whipped the blanket off of him and shook his shoulder while holding the coffee under his nose with the other.

"Come on, Mason. You gotta get up. I even brought you coffee," she insisted. When he showed no signs of waking, she grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked.

"Georgie?" he mumbled. "What've I told you about messing with me hair?" She wordlessly shoved the coffee into his hands as he straightened in the chair. His eyes brightened when he realized he had precious caffeine in his hands. "Oh, fantastic. Thanks, Georgie-girl. You always were my favorite."

His alarm clock just snorted at that blatant lie. "Rube's got breakfast almost…" she stared at his back as he eagerly sat down at the kitchen table, "done," she finished, rolling her eyes. Only food could get Mason to move that quickly. Well, Daisy probably could if she ever bothered to, but George didn't see that happening any time soon.

She walked back to the kitchen and sat in the chair next to him, smiling her thanks to Rube as he slid a portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate and set a plate piled high with pancakes in the center of the table. Rube's hand shot out and smacked Mason's away from the pancakes. "You get three. No more. Save some for everyone else." Mason nodded agreeably and Rube released his wrist.

Roxy entered, closely followed by Daisy, who was surprisingly make-up free at the moment. Seeing George's look, Daisy just flicked her eyes over the Mason. "I wanted to be sure I got some breakfast," she said by way of explanation.

"I'm not judging," George assured her. She quickly handed around the post-its for the day. "I guess having a full team of reapers really does make a difference. Everybody gets one today." She looked at Rube as she handed him his. "Can I just say that this is totally weird? This handoff should be going the other way around."

Mason grinned. "I don't know, I'm kind of enjoying the fact that Rube has to listen to you. If I give you $10, will you purposely give him difficult reaps?"

George and Rube both chose to ignore him, but the corner of Roxy's mouth turned up in a smile she tried to suppress. Daisy focused on Rube and smiled. "I'm just glad that we _finally_ have a full reaper contingency. Any more four reap days this month and I might actually go insane, not to mention the damage it was doing to my cuticles." She frowned as she studied her nails. "I _have_ to get a manicure in today," she mumbled to herself.

After checking the time and place on his post-it, Rube tucked it into his shirt pocket. "You really should have had a replacement in by now. I'm not sure what the holdup is with upper management. But at least you're not understaffed for the moment."

He looked around the table at the familiar faces and couldn't help but feel glad to be back, despite the circumstances.

In some twisted, fucked up way, his charges had become family- a totally dysfunctional family, but family nonetheless. Roxy and George had both been part of his team since their deaths, and he'd helped both of them through the rough adjustment period from life to death to undeath. While Mason and Daisy had been transfers, they had both come into their own under his watch. But however he might have helped them, they had helped him too, in too many ways to count. And while it had pained him to leave, especially since he still hadn't actually gotten his lights, just yet another job to do, he was proud of how they'd coped in his absence, especially since George had taken over the reins as team leader. His Peanut had grown up and become a responsible woman, even if she did still look eighteen. Maybe it was arrogant on his part, but he liked to think that he'd had something to do with that. Yes, the five of them were a family, and it was good to be home.

A few minutes passed in light conversation as Rube caught up on everything he'd missed since his promotion, until the shrill ring of Rube's phone interrupted. Surprised, Rube dug it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "This is Rube," he answered. "Harry! How are you? It's been what, four years? Yeah, just got the job a few months back. Shit, really? Alright, I'll drive down this afternoon. Can you meet me around 4 o'clock and fill me in? Great. Nah, I'll drive back when we're done, but thanks for the offer. Ok, see you later. And thanks for the tip. Goodbye."

When he hung up, he found his former charges watching him expectantly. "What? Eat your food," he ordered, promptly following his own advice and shoveling a bite of pancake in his mouth.

"Well? What'd they say?" George finally burst out, unable to contain her curiosity anymore.

Rube finished chewing and swallowed before answering. "Two more unexplained deaths in Portland this morning- the police are ruling it a construction accident."


	8. Confession is Good for the Soul

A/N: Wow, even birthdays don't bring the lurkers out into the light! I'm just kidding, I love the fact that anybody's reading this at all. For those that have taken the time to review, you all are amazing and awesome for taking the time to drop a line or two. This chapter's a bit shorter than the last couple, but it was a good stopping point, so I didn't argue with it. Just a heads up, my dissertation for my MA is due in *gasp* 14 days, so it might be a bit longer between updates as I'm frantically editing my thesis. But not to worry, I promise I will still be updating this and it will all be posted, but maybe not as quickly as it has been. And with that, on with the show!

Disclaimer: If I owned the show, it would not have ended so quickly, Laura Harris would have reprized her role as Daisy in Life After Death, and George wouldn't have looked so orange in the movie. But I don't. So you get this instead.

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The news of more unscheduled deaths immediately stalled conversation around the kitchen table. Then theories started flying. Roxy pounded the table to get everyone's attention.

"There's something I don't get," Roxy mused, turning a thought over in her head. "We don't know what's causing people to die, but the fact that their souls are popped suggests there's a reaper at work in this somehow."

"So, what, there's a rogue reaper going around popping souls and killing people?" Mason asked skeptically. "What would be the point?"

"It might not be a rogue reaper doing the killing," Daisy pointed out. "Could just be someone doing what we've been doing. You know, checking to make sure the soul isn't trapped."

That sparked a fierce debate about whether or not someone could be doing that and if they were, why the souls hadn't gone through their lights immediately, and why the hell nobody had mentioned reaping an unscheduled death. To Rube's astonishment, George raised a hand for silence and the others immediately stopped talking and turned their attention to her. He'd have to get her to show her how she did that, he thought to himself.

She spoke slowly, still mulling over the thought she had just had. "Daisy's right. It might not necessarily be a reaper." She looked meaningfully at Mason and Daisy and silently begged their forgiveness for what she was about to reveal. Across from her Daisy's eyes had grown wide and frightened, but she nodded almost imperceptibly, granting George her permission to finally confess the secret they had all been hiding from Rube for so long, while Mason studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone and tried to make himself as small as possible in his seat. "More than half of the deaths have been accidents- first the explosion and now this construction accident. Could… is it possible… do you think the gravelings might possibly be involved somehow?" she asked Rube.

His eyes widened; evidently he hadn't considered that angle. "I don't know, Peanut. That's a good question though. My instinct would be to say no, because they have their own orders to follow, and I've never seen them except at an appointment."

"That's just it, though," Daisy broke in with a resigned air, almost glad they were finally confessing. "I had a reap once, oh four, five years back. Should have been pretty straight-forward, but instead of one guy dying, there were two. And I only had the one post-it." Anticipating Rube's question, she hastened to assure him, "Don't worry, they both crossed over properly, although I had to reap the second man post-mortem."

Rube's evaluating gaze passed from reaper to reaper. "I see I'm the only one here surprised by this. Someone want to explain to me why that is?" he asked in his super calm, super quiet voice that spelled big trouble for his former group.

"Suppose this is where I come in, then, innit?" Mason sighed resignedly. "What Daisy isn't telling you is that the graveling that orchestrated the extra death wasn't exactly following orders."

"And you know this how, exactly?" Rube inquired, still in that chilling voice that had everyone else at the table cringing away from him.

The secret that had eaten away at him for so long finally broke free in a rush. "Because it was my fucking fault that the damned graveling even existed, alright?" Mason practically shouted, lurching to his feet in preparation for escaping the showdown he was sure was coming.

But Daisy stopped him with a soft hand on his arm, gently tugging him back down into his seat. "No, it was my fault. Remember Ray, that slime ball that I was going with for awhile? Well, the graveling that did it- the one that killed the extra man? It sort of, well, used to be Ray."

By this point Rube's eyebrows were practically at his hairline. "Excuse me?"

Mason covered Daisy's hand on his arm with his own, squeezing it in reassurance. "I might've, maybe, well... I sort of killed him. I hadn't planned on it or anything. The fucker was hurting Daisy."

Daisy bravely raised her eyes to meet Rube's cold gaze. "He turned into a graveling and started harassing us. I don't think he ever would have stopped if Georgia hadn't…" she broke off, horrified by what she had almost revealed. Her intention had only been to mention that they knew of at least one instance when a graveling killed someone without an appointment.

George cowered in her seat as Rube turned his harsh glare on her. "If George hadn't what? Care to finish that sentence, Peanut? And just to clarify, I don't really give a fuck whether you care to or not, you'd best be finishing that sentence."

George stared resolutely at her hands in her lap, cautiously watching Rube out of the corner of her eye. "I reaped him," she whispered. "Turned him into nothing more than a puff of ash." When Rube didn't respond to that for a long moment, she gathered the shards of her brash bravado and raised her head to face him.

"Let me see if I've got all this straight. Fuck-up here killed a man without an appointment, turning him into a graveling and then Georgia," George flinched at his use of her full name, something he only did when he was really, really, really pissed off, "reaped the damn thing and nobody thought to inform me of any of this?" Rube was feeling somewhere between shock and outrage; he was shocked that any of it had happened and that they had somehow managed to keep it all a secret from him, and outraged that they had somehow managed to keep it all a secret from him. None of them were terribly good at secrecy. They all had a tendency to break down fairly quickly and confess their screw ups.

He turned a baleful gaze on Roxy. "I'd have thought you at least would have told me."

Roxy shook her head in stunned disbelief. "Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are. I knew Ray was dead, but I never heard about this graveling shit. Fuck, George. You reaped a graveling?"

"It was going after Mason. I didn't even think, I just reacted," George answered in a small voice that she fought to keep from wavering. Mason rubbed her back reassuringly, while on her other side, Rube continued to stare at her. He finally seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion and his voice turned from hard and cold as ice to gentle and reassuring.

He laid his hand over hers where it lay on her lap, clenching a napkin so tightly that her knuckles were white. "I'm not mad, George, well, alright, I'm a little mad. But mostly I'm just hurt that you all kept this from me. That graveling could have caused serious trouble and you all didn't trust me to help solve the problem. I thought over the last couple years we'd stopped having secrets from each other. And I'm confused, because you're telling me you reaped a graveling, and that shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't have even been able to see it to do that."

"Um, about that…" George hesitated. "I know you always say to look for them out of the corner of your eye, but I've never had to do that. I've always seen them, clear as day, even back when I was still alive." She held a hand up in Rube's direction, stopping his objection before he could make it. He _really_ needed to ask her how she did that trick. "I know, I know, it isn't possible for the living to see them. But I'm telling you, I did. Once when I was little, I was pushed into a pool. I didn't know how to swim, so I was just floating there, slowly sinking, and two gravelings popped out of the pool vent. One started towards me but the other one dragged it back and said something to it. Then they both crawled back in and disappeared. No deaths. I don't know what the hell they were doing, but they weren't orchestrating an accident."

Rube stared at her in what almost looked like shock, an expression she found mirrored on the faces of everyone else. "You're certain?" Rube asked urgently. When she nodded, his face turned grim. "I'll have to make a phone call about this and you and me need to have a talk once I do."

At that, Daisy butted in. "Actually, it should be 'you and I need to have a talk.' So few people have a proper appreciation for grammar these days."

Rube turned a glare on her and she subsided, picking at her eggs with her eyes averted. "Sorry," she whispered. This time Mason rubbed _her _back reassuringly.

Rube pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "Alright, well this Ray situation aside, I've never heard of any issues with the gravelings before, and upper management keeps them on a pretty tight leash. We won't eliminate them from the suspect pool entirely, but I don't think they're our culprits."

Roxy nodded in agreement, but added, "But you all may be on to something with this whole graveling thing- maybe our missing souls are missing because they've become gravelings."

"Could be," Rube agreed. "But regardless, we need to sort this thing out before more people die prematurely. I want everyone to keep an eye out for more suspicious activity here. I'm going to drive down to Portland to check things out there once I've finished with my appointment this morning. I'll be back sometime this evening. Roxy, I'll need you to keep me filled in on what the police find out about the three murder victims."

"Of course. But do you really think the police will find anything? Somehow I get the feeling there's something less alive and more sinister at work than the usual police suspects."

"You and me both, but I'll take anything that might help us track this down and figure…" He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing again. Rube practically vaulted out of his chair when he saw who was calling. "Gotta take this, back in a few," he shouted behind him as he ran out to the front porch for some privacy.


	9. Investigating, Part I

A/N: Clues, clues, everywhere!

Disclaimer: You know the drill by now.

* * *

_Last time: "You and me both, but I'll take anything that might help us track this down and figure…" He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing again. Rube practically vaulted out of his chair when he saw who was calling. "Gotta take this, back in a few," he shouted behind him as he ran out to the front porch for some privacy._

Surprised, the others looked at each other, grabbed their juice glasses, quickly drained them, and stealthily crept up to the front door and placed the rims of their glasses to the door before pressing their ears to the bottom, feeling perfectly justified in eavesdropping on their old boss under the circumstances.

Through their improvised listening devices, they could just make out what Rube was saying as he paced agitatedly across the front porch. "Yeah? What? You're sure? Interesting. So where were they for three days? Yeah, I know. Sorry. So I guess we see if the pattern holds for the others. Two more were found in Portland this morning. I'm going to head down and check it out this afternoon. OK, thanks. Keep me informed."

His eavesdroppers quickly shifted back to the table as they heard him sigh and approach the door again. When he got back to the table, he found them all, minus Roxy of course, who was just too collected to betray what she knew, nervously pretending to be totally normal and loudly conversing about anything but what they'd overheard.

This time he didn't even try to keep the four staring at him in wide-eyed suspense waiting. "Well, it seems that the three souls from that lab explosion at the university finally found their lights and crossed over. But still no sign of the other victims of whatever this is. And still no word on who or what might be killing them."

"There's no way to ask them if they know who reaped them?" Roxy asked, already knowing the answer would be no.

"Nope, they don't know themselves. Apparently whoever did reap them didn't bother to take them to their lights, just left them there to figure it out on their own. That's why they were missing for so long. If the same thing happened to the others, there's no telling how long it will be before they move on," Rube sighed in frustration, his earlier anger at his team forgotten in the face of the problems at hand.

Roxy drummed her fingers against the table. "Well, now, that's not entirely true. If they're still stuck here, we could go looking for them. Chances are they didn't wander too far from where they were killed. You can look for those victims in Portland while you're down there, and the rest of us can try to track down the local ones."

"That's a great idea, Roxy. I think that should be our plan of attack for the day. Mason, why don't you and Daisy take a look around the university for the most recent death there and I'll tag along with Roxy this morning before my afternoon shift at Happy Time and we'll look for the first two murders victims. OK? Let's meet up at Der Waffle Haus tonight and compare notes. Rube, you said you were meeting someone in Portland around 4, right? So shall we say Der Waffle Haus at 8?"

"Sounds good, Peanut," he said, impressed with her delegations. "Did you ask Daisy about the rest of us staying here?"

"Oh! I'd forgotten. Do you mind if the others crash with us while we're tracking down these deaths? Rube thought it would make things easier, plus, it might be safer since whoever left me that note clearly knows where I live."

Daisy immediately agreed. "That's a wonderful idea. Mason and I can even pick up an inflatable mattress while we're out and that way everyone can at least have a bed. Why don't you all bring some clothes and things to Der Waffle Haus later and we can all come home together?"

"That reminds me," said Rube as he began gathering their breakfast dishes to take to the sink, "one of the delivery shades will be dropping off some of my things this evening. I didn't have a chance to pack much before I get shipped from Vancouver to make that regional meeting."

Mason looked at him like he was crazy and mouthed, "Delivery shades?" to Roxy, who just shrugged back.

George, however, nodded in understanding. "I'll keep an eye out for them if they get here before you get back."

"Appreciate it, Peanut. And now, I've got an appointment to get to. Anyone want to give me a lift to my truck? I left it in the lot at that office building near Der Waffle Haus."

"Roxy's patrol car is still at Der Waffle Haus too. Why don't we all head over there and I can go with Roxy so Daisy, you and Mason can take my car out to the university." She turned to Mason, "You'll note that I said that Daisy could take the car. You don't drive my baby. You don't get drunk or high in my baby, and you sure as hell don't get scratches on it, crash it, set it on fire, throw up in it or do any of the other stupid shit that you've managed to do to your cars. We have an understanding?"

"Georgie," he protested, "I don't know why you're acting like I'm the grim reaper of automobiles. I crashed _one _time, _and_ I was high, _and_ that was like fifteen years ago!"

She snorted. "That's bullshit and you know it, Mason. Just let Daisy drive and try to behave? I really like my car." Mason just grumbled, which George took as his reluctant agreement.

"We'd better get a move on then," she said, shepherding her flock out to the car.

* * *

At Der Waffle Haus, Rube got out and started walking to his car, while Roxy and George transferred to Roxy's patrol car. George tossed her keys to Daisy after making her swear to be careful with the Mustang and not to let Mason drive it. That prompted more muttered grumblings from the Brit as he stewed in the passenger seat, but George just squeezed his shoulder and left with Roxy.

The two women piled into the police car, with Roxy unbending enough to allow George to sit up front instead of in the back. She radioed in to Dispatch to let them know she was patrolling and available if needed and then started driving towards the address where the first two murder victims were found.

George leaned back in her seat and sighed. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Hmm?" Roxy muttered distractedly as she made a left-hand turn. "What what means?"

"If the souls are still out there wandering around, our graveling theory's shot and we're back to square fucking one."

The policewoman nodded grimly. "Yeah, I'd thought of that. It just doesn't make any sense…"

"Yeah, well, when has any of this ever made sense? We just do what we gotta do."

"Kid," Roxy snorted, "you're turning into Rube more and more every fucking day."

When she had first died, George probably would have greeted that statement with an outraged shriek and a ten minute diatribe denouncing the accusation, but having grown up a bit and experienced some of the pressures and responsibilities of being the head reaper, George just shrugged. "It's the job, Roxy. Kinda makes me wonder what Rube was like before he was head reaper. Bet you anything he wasn't as resigned and serious before either."

Roxy regarded her with sympathy and understanding. "It's really that bad, then?" she asked quietly, not expecting an answer. "Guess I should be glad they picked you and not me."

George just shrugged. "I dunno what to think anymore. Somebody has to do it. If you'd gotten picked, you'd have gotten the job done."

The rest of the ride was passed in companionable silence, each woman engrossed in her own thoughts. Roxy pulled up in front of an older, slightly rundown apartment building and parallel parked along the curb.

"So this is it," George remarked, staring out the window of the patrol car at the older, slightly rundown apartment building in front of them. Roxy ignored her in favor of climbing out of the car to get this shit over with.

They got out of the car and made their way inside, Roxy pulling off her hat as they entered. After a short elevator ride up to the fourth floor, the elevator doors slide open to reveal a door directly across from them covered in yellow crime scene tape. Roxy strode over to the door, pulling out a ring of keys as she did so. She deftly unlocked the door and nonchalantly ducked under the tape and into the small apartment. Before allowing George to follow her in, Roxy did a quick check to see if anyone from the coroner's office or the police department was around. Satisfied that they had the place to themselves, she beckoned George into the room.

As she snuck under the police tape, George's eyes caught on a framed photo sitting on a small bookcase packed full of hard cover books. A dark haired older man beamed at the camera, with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a younger version of himself wearing a hunter green SU sweatshirt with the mountains in the distance. She picked up the picture to study it while Roxy made a sweep of the apartment. "No sign of them here. We should check the rest of the building. They shouldn't have gotten very far."

George gestured to the picture she still held. "Is this them?"

Roxy came over and studied it. "Yeah, that's them. Father and son- Jose Rodriguez, 52, and his son Diego, 21. The dad worked as a cook in a South American bistro, the son was a freshman at Seattle University, pre-med. They emigrated from Peru ten years ago, only to end up strangled in their own apartment. Such a shame."

"Yeah," George agreed quietly as she set the picture down. "We should check the area. Any family nearby? That's where I kept returning to when I first died."

"Nah, all still back in Peru, although the wife died here a while back. We can ride out to the cemetery and take a look there."

They went back out to the elevator, Roxy carefully locking the door behind them.

"That's probably our best bet. Was the dad's restaurant nearby? They might've gone there, just for a familiar place," George suggested.

"Yeah, couple blocks away. Worth a shot. Why don't we check there real quick and then head out to the cemetery?" Roxy suggested.

"That's as good a plan as any. I know they've been dead for almost two days at this point, but didn't think they'd have wandered off very far, especially without a reaper around to guide them."

"It is what it is, kid," Roxy responded pragmatically as she slide into the patrol car and buckled her seat belt.

George grinned at her as she fastened her own seatbelt. "Now who's turning into Rube?"

"Real funny," Roxy replied dryly and started the car.

When they got to the restaurant where Jose had worked, neither was particularly surprised that there was no trace of their missing souls. Roxy put in a call to the station to find out where the wife was buried and to see if there were any new leads. They started off once more, hoping they would luck out at the cemetery.

"The police find anything?" George asked.

Roxy glanced at her before turning her attention back to the road. "This is still an ongoing investigation, so don't go repeating what I tell you to anyone outside our little group. And maybe don't tell Mason either."

Rolling her eyes, George protested, "He's not _that _bad. He can keep a secret you know."

"Yeah, I guess I do," Roxy said quietly.

George immediately caught her mistake. "Look, Rox, I'm sorry we didn't tell you."

"No," Roxy interrupted, "it's my own fault. I told Daisy I didn't want to know when it happened. I just didn't realize what I wasn't finding out about." They sat in silence for a minute, then Roxy roused herself to pass on what she'd learned. "Anyway, still no real leads. They were strangled by one of the ties from their own curtains and the fucker wore gloves, so we've got no prints. Other than that, still nothing. Nobody can think of any enemies they might have had, and it doesn't seem like anything was stolen from the apartment." She sighed.

"So there're no leads, no witnesses, and no suspects. Maybe we'll get lucky at the cemetery. If we can find the souls, they might be able to tell us who killed them," George offered tentatively, afraid to offer too much optimism.

"Maybe," Roxy said dubiously.

They reached the cemetery and split up to look for the grave of Marina Rodriguez and her husband and son. George finally found it half-hidden in the shade of an old oak tree, but there was no sign of their missing souls. She hollered for Roxy, who immediately made her way over to her.

"Well shit," she said, looking down at the name carved on the granite stone. "So much for that idea."

"Yeah," George agreed, glancing at her watch. "Fuck, I gotta get to work. Can you give me a lift to Happy Time?"

Roxy nodded and gestured for George to follow her as they set off back down the hill towards the car. Neither of them noticed the two gravelings perched like frozen statues in the branches of the oak tree standing guard over Marina's burial place and watching them leave the cemetery.

* * *

A/N2: Dun dun dunnnnn. I might be a teensy bit devious with the twists and turns. But I don't want you all to figure it out _too_ easily. Any theories out there? Virtual cookies for letting me know what you think/how I'm doing. And now I have to stop playing with DLM and go back to thesis-writing. *sadface*


	10. Investigating, Part II

A/N: Never let it be said that reviews don't inspire posting! I totally wasn't planning on updating today, but I got probably the sweetest review ever from Picotee, so I used my break from thesis editing to proofread this & post it. Sylvan Tart was nice enough to defend the merits of the earlier reunion chapters, so hopefully this one will also stay on the right side of the line between in-character emotional goodness and unnecessary fluff :) If I can spoil my own chapter for a minute, I know Daisy/Mason isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I think they needed this after the upheaval of the last couple of chapters. And I'm convinced this was the direction the show was going at the end of season 2 anyway. Of course continued thanks go out to all my readers, reviewers and lurkers for keeping up with the story. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Consider this story disclaimered. Not disclaimed, but disclaimered. There's a difference.

* * *

On the way to the university, Mason sat in uncharacteristic silence, warily watching Daisy out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the reaction he fully expected would hit in three… two…

Daisy abruptly pulled over to the side of the road and leaned her head down against the steering wheel, tears brimming in her eyes despite her best efforts to blink them away.

Mason just reached over, turned the car off, and wrapped his arms around the sobbing girl and pulled her towards him. He let her soak the shoulder of his shirt and gently stroked her blonde hair with one hand, enjoying the slide of it through his fingers and the way the scent of her shampoo wafted towards him with each slow pass of his fingers through her fine hair. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and murmured soothing nonsense while the hand not occupied with her hair smoothed circles along her quivering back. When he felt her shaking subside, he gently drew back a few inches, his eyes seeking hers.

"Hey there gorgeous," he smiled gently, tracing away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. "Alright now?" He watched her visibly struggle to affix her public mask of unconcern and tweaked her nose.

"You don't need to do that with me," he said seriously, despite the juvenile tug he had just given her nose. "I've seen just about every side of you, Daisy Adair. Some I've liked, and some I haven't, but I always know when you're pulling your actress shit. It's just me. What are you so afraid of?"

Her face crumpled and the mask she constantly wore fell away again. She choked back a sob and buried her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "Why are you always so nice to me, Mason? I'm terrible to you. I'm terrible to everyone," she insisted as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt to anchor herself to him.

"That's where you're wrong, Daisy. That's where you've always been wrong," he murmured from above her. "You try to manipulate everyone with your hot and cold routine, but we all know it's just an act. You've been a good friend to all of us at one point or another." He framed her face with his hands so she could watch him and know he was serious. "If you want to know what I think, I think you're just scared of getting hurt. You try to keep everything and everyone at a distance so you can't be disappointed. But luv, it's already too late for that."

Mason swallowed thickly when he realized something that looked suspiciously like hope was struggling to break free in her eyes. He took a deep breath and prayed that he would say the right words and wouldn't send her skittering away again. "Despite your best efforts to keep everyone away, you are already loved. Our little reaper family? We all love you. You, Daisy Adair. Not whatever character you're playing at the moment, but you. It's ok to admit that you love us back, you know." His thumbs caressed small circles across the apples of her cheeks. "Even after Ray and Cameron, we're still here for you. _I'm_ still here for you. I will _always_ be here for you, ok?"

Daisy's courage ran out then and she tucked her head under his chin to avoid his gaze. "I don't deserve that," she breathed against his skin, eyes clenched tightly closed, trying desperately not to let him tear down all of her walls, afraid that if he did, there would be nothing left of her.

"Oh, no, darlin'. You're worth everything," he breathed back in the same tentative whisper before gently pressing his lips against her hair.

She shook her head and raised her gaze to meet his frank stare. "But why? I don't know how to be a friend to someone, I don't know how to let someone love me, and I sure as hell don't know how to love anyone back. Don't you see, Mason? I _can't_ be what you want, no matter what I might want."

Mason found his hands entirely unwilling to stop touching her and since she hadn't protested yet, he shifted his grip on her and tucked her against his side more comfortably, leaving his left arm secured around her waist. "That's not true. George considers you a friend and I know deep down you consider her one too. I've seen you in the morning- if that girl didn't love you there is no fucking way she'd still be living with you. I mean, have you seen some of the death glares she's leveled at you before she's had her second cup of coffee?" he asked playfully, mock-shuddering. Daisy's lips tucked up at one corner and she gently elbowed him in the ribs to show he'd made his point.

He sobered again and met her eyes squarely. "I know I've always considered you a friend. But you want to know why I keep hanging around, praying that you'll give me the bloody time of day? Because I know you'd be worth every minute of torture and so much more. You've got the capacity for so much love, sweetheart, and you've been bottlin' it up for so long that you've got great big stores of it to give. And whoever manages to coax it out of you will be the luckiest bastard in the whole world." He brushed his lips against her forehead again and subsided, letting his words sink in.

Daisy reached out and captured the hand not wrapped comfortingly around her and twined her fingers with his. She inhaled shakily before admitting, "I'm scared, Mason."

He squeezed her hand. "I know, luv. I know. But you don't have to shoulder it all alone. Loving someone doesn't make you less, it makes you more."

And just like that the last of her walls came crashing down. She stared down at their hands. "I think if anyone could teach me how to love, it'd be you," she finally admitted.

"Oh sweetheart," Mason breathed. "So let me try," he begged fervently, his eyes beseeching hers, asking for faith and trust and promising the same and so much more.

Daisy gently disentangled their fingers and raised a shaking hand to palm the side of his face. She studied his eyes and released a shuddering breath. "Then teach me," she said as she drew his face down towards hers and gently touched her lips to his in a barely there kiss before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

A radiant smile broke across his face and voice thick with emotion, he admitted, "I thought you'd never ask," before pulling her back for a proper kiss, arms wrapping around her tightly and pulling her over to lay across his lap, unwilling to let her escape back to her cloak of indifference.

When she tried to deepen the kiss, tongue darting out to tease the seam of his lips seeking entry, he pulled back. "Much as I'd like to, I think we need to take this slow." When he saw the hurt cross her face, he hugged her to him and nuzzled his face into her hair. "This is too important to ruin with a quick fuck. I'm playing for keeps with you, Daisy. I want us to be sure of each other before we take that leap," he confessed in a warm whisper against her ear.

Understanding hit and she nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as she disentangled herself from his lanky arms. "That makes sense I guess. So… what happens next?"

Mason smiled again, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "Next, we go do our jobs and have dinner with the group and compare notes and then, then I'd like to start in on those lessons. So Daisy Adair, will you do me the honor of joining me on our own journey of love?" he grinned goofily at her.

Daisy groaned and nudged his shoulder with hers. "That was unbearably cheesy."

Mason just grinned wider. "I've got a million of 'em," he winked and then sighed. "But we really should get going or we won't have time to look around campus before we have to be back downtown for our appointments," he said, slightly surprised to find that his fingers had wound themselves through her loose curls again.

Daisy nodded, and restarted the car. Mason untangled his fingers from her hair, but moved a hand down to her thigh, placing it just above her knee. It rested comfortingly there the entire rest of the drive, the slight pressure a reminder that she didn't have to be alone anymore. Daisy didn't protest and every so often would let one hand drift down to lay on top of his for a minute before returning to the steering wheel. They sat quietly until Daisy pulled into a lot at the university and parked, each coming to grips with what had just happened. Mason was a little apprehensive that she would still yank up the walls she used so effectively to block everyone out, but after she parked, Daisy turned to him and deliberately reached to hold his hand in hers and offered him a small smile, seeming to understand that now it was her turn to reassure him.

Relieved, Mason let loose a joyous laugh. "Come on, Daisy me luv. We've got souls to track and mysteries to solve!" he exclaimed as he pulled her out of the car with him.

The pair made their way to the cluster of science buildings, hands still entwined. Mason jauntily swung their arms back and forth as they walked and he was almost skipping alongside her as she walked gracefully and unhurriedly down the path. He beamed his manic grin at his companion, hoping to be rewarded with a smile for his antics. She didn't disappoint him. She even went above and beyond and graced him with a quick giggle. He abruptly brought them to a stop.

"Do that again," he insisted with an utterly besotted expression on his face.

"Do what?" Daisy giggled, amused by his behavior.

"That!" he exclaimed. "You should laugh more. That little giggle of yours is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard," he said surprisingly seriously.

Daisy stilled and then tentatively smiled. Then her normal courage reasserted itself and she teased him back, tapping the end of his nose with a slim delicate finger. "Well, you'll just have to give me something to giggle at, won't you?" she teased, secretly charmed by his words.

Mason shot her a knowing look to let her know he was on to her. "I'll see what I can do about that," he said dryly, internally vowing to constantly find ways of making Daisy Adair laugh. He made it his own personal mission to see how close he could come to etching smile and laugh lines around her mouth. Oh, he knew they didn't age and didn't change appearance, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to bring her all the happiness and light that had been missing in her life for so long.

He pulled her over to a tree lining the path they were on and leaned her against it, sealing her lips with his and this time allowing his tongue to gently dance with hers for a moment before pulling away and ushering her down the path towards their destination.

* * *

First year grad student Simon Caines had received three gunshot wounds to the chest while working late in one of the biology labs set aside for graduate student use. He had been monitoring the effectiveness of a new treatment currently in preliminary testing phases when he'd heard noises coming from the secure lab down the hall. That particular lab was used by infectious disease researchers and stored active samples of the diseases they studied so that cures could be tested. Security was therefore high, requiring a key code and hand scan to enter. Simon had expected to be the only one still around at 11:30 at night, so he went to see who else was keeping long hours. In his final moment, he saw the hazy outlines of three strangers dressed in black before his vision faded to black and three blood stains bloomed across his chest and he knew no more.

Mason and Daisy stood outside the same secured doors and looked around for a wayward soul. The hallway had been scrubbed clean, and security for the lab in front of them had been significantly tightened. To even get into the building, Daisy had had to pretend to be Simon's older sister visiting with her fiancé and beg the security guard to let them see where her brother had died. "For closure, you understand," she sniffled to the guard, who had been helpless against her tears. Her puffy, bloodshot eyes from her earlier breakdown had only helped to sell the story.

There was no sign of a loitering soul in the hall, so Daisy tearfully asked to see the lab where he was working that night. The guard led them a few doors down the hall and opened a door. The lab sat empty, Simon's notes and books still spread across the table where he had been sitting. Daisy turned on the waterworks and sobbed into Mason's shirt. He sheepishly patted her back and looked at the security guard over her head.

"Listen mate, would you mind giving us a few minutes? We won't disturb anything, I promise."

The guard reluctantly nodded and stepped back into the hall. "Just a few minutes though. I'll be outside to escort you out of the building when you're ready." He closed the door behind him, leaving the two reapers alone in the room.

Daisy immediately tried to step back, but Mason tightened the embrace for a minute before reluctantly letting her step back. "That might be one of your best performances yet, darlin'. You had me almost tearing up for your dear departed brother."

Daisy shot him a playful grin. "Well, I _am _a highly regarded actress, you know. I was destined for greatness," she said airily, for once gently mocking herself instead of bragging. Then she started scanning the room, opening cabinets and large storage units looking for their victim. Mason leaned over Simon's notes, reading what the dead boy had been writing just before his death.

"Looks like he was testing a new drug for some sort of disease. Says here it was looking promising."

"How unfortunate that he's dead then," Daisy remarked. "But someone else should continue the work, right? It'd be a shame for him to die so young and not even have his work completed." She should know. But at least filming for Gone with the Wind had finished.

"Yeah, probably. There's no sign of him here and we should probably get out of here before the guard gets suspicious. Try to look a little teary-eyed and we'll go check his apartment and try tracking down his real family, see if he went there."

"Alright," the blonde agreed, taking his arm and leading him from room, bereaved sister act firmly in place. "Thank you so much," she said, turning a watery smile on the helpful guard. "It really means so much to me to see where Simon…" she choked up a bit, "passed," she finished with a sob.

The sympathetic guard awkwardly patted her shoulder, assuring her it was no trouble at all and he hoped the police caught the bastards that had killed the boy.

Once out of eyesight and earshot of the guard, Daisy broke down into giggles. Mason grinned at her, but raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"What?" Daisy asked. "I thought you wanted me to laugh more. I just haven't had so much fun playing a part in ages," she admitted.

Her companion swung an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the car. "Good. Now let's try that apartment. Roxy gave you the address earlier, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I've got it right here. And before you ask, no, you are still not driving."

Mason pouted, but opened the driver's side door for her without protest, waiting for her to swing her legs in before closing the door and walking around to the other side. Simon's apartment was only about a mile away from campus and Mason and Daisy found it just as empty as the lab, although Mason did manage to pick up a six-pack of beer from Simon's fridge. A quick call to Roxy informed them that his family all lived out of state, too far for an incorporeal soul to reach on foot, and the student hadn't had a significant other or many close friends. Just to be thorough, the two checked the apartments of two friends living in the same building, but struck out there as well.

Daisy sighed. "I think we're out of ideas here. And we need to get back, I've got an appointment in an hour."

Mason nodded. "Yeah. We tried at least. Maybe he'll turn up on his own."

A lone graveling perched on one of the gargoyles lining the roof of the apartment building watched them climb into George's Mustang and drive away.


	11. Investigating, Part III

A/N: An update! Yay! There might be a few more typos/errors than usual because I haven't compulsively read this like 12 times to check, so sorry if there are. For those of you at home keeping track, I have four whole days to finish my masters dissertation (!), so the earliest the next chapter will go up will be after Monday. Thanks for your patience, and reviews are love! Feed the starving grad student!

Disclaimer: Um, yeah.*Insert clever disclaimer message here*

* * *

Driving down the I-5 to Portland, Rube cranked up the radio, filling the truck with the soothing sounds of his favorite smooth jazz station. He tried to focus on the drive and the task ahead of him in Portland, but the revelations made at the breakfast table just kept whirling around inside his head. If George was telling the truth—and he had no reason to suppose she was lying—then she was one of those very few souls who had missed their own appointment and had it rescheduled. Coming that close to death gave a person a certain affiliation with the world of reapers and gravelings. It certainly explained her uncanny ability to spot gravelings in action, an ability he'd suspected she had once or twice. He had dismissed the thought though, figuring he was just imagining George staring straight at the damned graveling like she could see it.

Ok, that much he could wrap his head around. But the power of a missed appointment coupled with the power of a reaper? He'd never heard of such a thing and had no idea how the combined power would manifest itself. It would certainly explain how she'd been able to reap Ray- no other reaper could have harmed a graveling. But if she hadn't been able to, the smarmy fucker could have caused serious problems for his crew. And if Ray had taken to attacking reapers… Rube might have found himself down a crew member or two.

But it was all just speculation anyway, at least until he could confirm that she'd originally been scheduled to die in that pool. He supposed it didn't much matter either way; George was unlikely to be in the position of having to reap another graveling, but it would be nice to know just what the fuck the kid was capable of. Her early fuck ups could have been even worse if she had managed to tap into those powers of hers right off the bat... Rube shuddered and promptly shut down that train of thought. They had bigger fish to fry at the moment, trying to get a handle on the string of strange deaths. Hopefully his team would be able to track down the rest of the errant souls and that would be one less thing to worry about.

The problem, he figured, was that they just didn't have any leads to follow. They had no way of knowing when or where the next death would show up and had no idea what was doing the killing. The best they could hope to do was react to the situation and clean up the mess. Unless they caught a break and were able to find a death in progress, Rube had no idea how they would ever solve this thing. Upper management wasn't any help. They weren't nearly as all-knowing as they liked to appear, and as soon as things derailed from their carefully scheduled rounds of appointments and promotions, they were useless.

He tensed and relaxed his fingers around the steering wheel a couple of times trying to release tension, but it didn't really help. Nothing probably would until all of this was sorted out. He sighed. At least he had his reapers helping him. Despite their individual shortcomings, they functioned pretty well as a group, and they were all sharp and observant when they wanted to be. He had every faith that if anyone could figure this out, it'd be his group. After all, it was his little Georgia that had noticed something was wrong in the first place. Upper management had gotten quite a shock when they'd read her letter. He knew it wasn't funny, but he couldn't help smirking a little at the utter uproar that Peanut had caused with her innocent little questions. The kid had spunk, he'd give her that.

Two and half hours and a lot of brooding later, Rube pulled into a gravel lot next to a quiet, inactive construction site, a half-finished apartment building rising before him. A middle-aged man with a weathered, craggy face in a flannel shirt and stained and ripped jeans leaning against the chain link fence surrounding the construction site pushed himself up and ambled towards him.

"You're still driving this heap of shit?" he asked as Rube swung down from the cab.

"You watch what you say about my truck, Harry. I don't remember you complaining last time I gave you a lift in it. Thing's been more reliable than some reapers I could mention," Rube retorted with a meaningful glance, reaching out to shake the other man's hand.

"No need to take offense, just making an observation is all," Harry grinned, patting the side of the truck affectionately. "I wouldn't dream of slighting the old girl. She's gotten me where I needed to be a time or two. How was the drive down- not too bad?"

Rube shook his head, "Nah, traffic wasn't bad and I made good time. Still, I'd like to try and get back on the road in an hour or so to get back at a reasonable time. Care to show me around your new city?"

Harry snorted. "I don't think you can still call it 'new' after four years, Captain."

Rube rolled his eyes at him. "You ever gonna cut that shit out? I haven't been your boss in thirty years and you've been bossing your own crew for the last four."

"Well, you know what they say about old dogs and tricks," Harry replied as he led Rube over to the gate and pulled out a key. He opened the padlock and pulled back the gate to allow Rube to pass before him into the deserted construction zone.

"Everything shut down this morning when the foreman found the two workers crushed under a fallen metal support beam," he gestured to a long heavy metal beam laid to one side. "Don't know much of the details—I'm basing this on what I picked up on the police scanner on my way to my morning meeting—but they think the beam wasn't welded in properly up on the fourth floor. Thing came crashing right down on two workers drinking their morning coffee and waiting for their shift to start."

Rube studied the scene before starting towards the interior of the hollow building. "Seen any sign of two souls wandering around lost since you've been here?" he asked Harry.

His long-time friend startled. "You think they might have stuck around here?"

Rube nodded. "Or at least close by. The first three victims from that explosion just crossed over last night; turns out whoever reaped them didn't bother to do them the courtesy of leading them all the way to the afterlife, just left them abandoned at the scene. Took them three days to figure out where they were supposed to be. I'd like to avoid that with these two if I can."

Just then he noticed two figures up near where the beam that killed them must have fallen from. "You see any way to get up there?" he asked Harry, pointing to the two souls.

"Yeah, there's a set of stairs up around the side of the building. This way," he beckoned.

When they got to the fourth floor, which consisted of little more than steel cross beams laying the foundation for the walls and floor, the two reapers carefully inched their way along an access platform towards the two lost souls.

The two men stared up at them in confusion. When Rube sat down next to them, the two men sputtered at him. "He… I think he can see us!" one exclaimed to the other.

Rube leaned forward to speak to both of them. "I understand you two have had a rough day. I'm sorry about that. My name is Rube and I'm here to escort you to your final destination."

"Final destination? You mean… we really are dead?" asked the soul next to Rube.

"I'm afraid so. You two see anything suspicious before that beam hit you?"

The other construction worker shook his head in denial. "Nah man, we were just drinking our coffee waiting for the boss to show up and then there was this rushing sound from overhead and then there was nothing until I sat up and saw our… bodies… just laying there."

Rube frowned. "Did you speak to anyone new this morning? Anybody touch you both shortly before it happened?"

The two souls frowned at each other. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure the only person both of us touched this morning was the guy at Starbucks who handed us our drinks. Why?"

"It's not important," Rube sighed. That meant whoever had reaped them was good- sneaky enough to separate the soul without the person becoming aware of their presence. Then he frowned. Or it could just mean that the two construction workers had been totally oblivious to it or had forgotten they'd met someone. Practically as soon as he had finished with that thought, the other construction worker grabbed the first's shoulder.

"Hey, there was that guy that wanted information about renting a place here once the building was finished."

"Oh yeah, that was kinda weird. But I don't remember touching him."

The second worker appeared thoughtful. "That's true. But there was something about that guy…" he trailed off. "He just didn't seem right, you know?"

Rube fixed his gaze on the more perceptive of the two souls. "What did this guy look like?"

The man shrugged, "I dunno, just kind of average. Not too tall, not too fat, brown hair, maybe mid-30s? I wouldn't have thought twice about him if I didn't think it was so weird he wanted to know about renting a place that won't even be finished for another year."

The first worker nodded in agreement. "Yeah, pretty non-descript white guy, y'know? Wearing jeans and a brown jacket."

Well, that was something at least. Their non-descript white guy might not be their reaper, but it was someplace to start. "Thank you, you gentlemen have been very helpful. Now if you'll come with me, you both have somewhere else you ought to be." Rube led them back down the stairs and into their waiting lights.

"Well that was interesting," Harry remarked. "Not much to go on, but at least you helped them cross over. Who knows how long they'dve been sitting there otherwise."

Rube nodded. "Know of any reapers that might fit their description?"

Harry stroked his chin in thought leaning against the side of Rube's truck. "I'm the only one of my crew that could be called a 'non-descript' white guy, and I'm too old. Plus I'm pretty sure I didn't do it," he remarked sardonically.

Rube cuffed the back of Harry's head lightly. "I didn't figure you had. Can you ask the other local heads and let me know if there's anyone that fits the bill? I'll check with the Seattle teams. Since this all started there, it's possible a Seattle reaper moved out of town to throw suspicion off themselves."

"Sure, no problem, Captain. I'll give you a call once I know more." He straightened and met Rube's gaze head on. "It's been good seeing you again Rube, circumstances aside," he said more seriously. "And congrats on the promotion! Let's try not to go another four years without any word."

Rube clasped his friend's shoulder. "Agreed." He pulled open the door and climbed in his truck. "See you around, Harry."

The former Navy commander-turned-reaper gave him a jaunty salute that prompted an eye roll from Rube and waved him off as he started the truck and turned back towards Seattle. Back towards home.


	12. Comparing Notes

A/N: And I'm back! Dissertation successfully handed in (now I get to wait 2 months to hear how I did. Eep.) and several days spent celebrating being done. So sorry about the delay. Hopefully from here on out I can manage around 2 updates a week. Speaking of updates, apparently I lost like half of my readers after chapter 9. I don't know if that's just people not having gotten around to reading the last chapter yet or if people just hate Daisy and Mason- if the former, no worries, but if the latter, a) review and let me know what you like/don't like and b) I just want to say that this is basically a general group fic, and while they'll pop up from time to time (like, say, in part of this chapter), they definitely aren't the main focus. To those of you still along for the ride, especially my reviewers, thanks for your patience and I'm going to shut up now and just let you read the story. :)

Disclaimer: You know how this goes- not mine, yadda yadda.

* * *

Moving lethargically, George twisted her key in the lock, letting herself into her house and dragging her purse on the ground behind her. After spending the morning finding a fat lot of nothing with Roxy, she'd spent the afternoon at Happy Time, where Delores needed her help on yet another corny themed going away party for some guy named Aaron that she'd never even seen before. After spending an hour in the supply closet searching futilely for hook arms and pirate eye patches Delores swore were in there somewhere, she'd then had to run out to the nearest party store to buy more fucking eye patches, which would no doubt join their brethren, lost in the sea of party goods hidden away in the closet, never to be seen again. Sometimes she hated going away parties. Scratch that, most of the time she hated going away parties. But at least there was cake. Delores made a mean German chocolate cake.

She'd cut out of the party as early as she could and rushed to her appointment—an unfortunate accident involving a guinea pig, recently mopped stairs, a helium balloon, and a candy necklace—and then had to suffer through the long bus ride back to the house. Days like today made George appreciate her Mustang and wonder what the hell she'd been thinking lending it to Mason and Daisy for the day. But at least she was home, she thought appreciatively as she collapsed on the sofa, only to groan and force herself back to her feet when she noticed a tell-tale shadow flickering across the front windows.

Pulling open the door with a sigh, George was confronted with a sight quite unlike what she had expected. In addition to the two suitcases she'd anticipated, "some of Rube's things" included a shiny new laptop, a printer, and a wireless modem. Considering his last brush with technology, George was shocked that Rube owned, let alone knew how to operate, such "high tech tomfoolery" as he'd once referred to it. But then again, her reap lists were always typed; maybe Rube had taken some typing lessons, she thought, snorting with laughter. She dragged Rube's things into the foyer and then heard her cell ringing.

She dug through her purse to find the clamorous device and answered with, "Hey Brian."

"Hey there, dead girl. So? What happened last night after we all left? Gina and I have been dyin' of curiosity. Who's the new regional manager and how is it havin' them in your group?"

He could hear George's wide smile in her voice when she answered. "Oh, it's been just like old times actually. Well, almost like old times. A weird version of old times." When Brian made an impatient noise, she chuckled and finally revealed, "The new guy's Rube."

Brian choked on the other end of the line. "That sonovabitch! Why the hell didn't he tell anybody?"

"Apparently he's been pretty busy taking care of some mess up in Vancouver pretty much since he got the job," George replied.

"Well, I'll be damned. So that old bastard's still hangin' around. Well, to be honest, I'm glad he's the one handlin' all this. There's no one else I'd trust like Rube to get things done. I've got to get to an appointment, but I wanted to check in on you. You jus' let me know if me or my team can help with anything, alright?"

She agreed and they said their goodbyes and hung up. George returned to the couch for a well-earned nap, falling asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow as she hugged her leg to her chest.

* * *

An hour later, Daisy pulled up in front of the house and she and Mason climbed out and gathered bags to take inside. After taking care of their appointments that afternoon, they had stopped by Mason's apartment so he could pack some things—clothes, toothbrush, Union Jack-covered pillow—and then stopped by Wal-Mart and bought an inflatable mattress so that Mason wasn't stuck in the recliner. Mason dusted off the gentlemanly qualities his mother had drilled into him years and years ago, which hadn't seen the light of day in far longer than he'd like to admit, and made sure to gather all of the heaviest bags, leaving Daisy to bring in a bag of groceries.

The two stumbled in through the front door, Mason having tripped over the strap of his duffle bag and crashed into Daisy. The clatter roused George, who swore in their general direction before rolling over and covering her face with a couch pillow. The older reapers laughed quietly and made their way further into the house to deposit the groceries and Mason's belongings.

As she pulled the box with the inflatable mattress out of a plastic shopping bag, Daisy bit her lip tentatively and asked him where he wanted to sleep. "I mean, should we set you up in the living room with Rube again? Or… would you like to share with me? There's room on the floor next to my bed," she offered hesitantly, unsure of his reaction. She wanted to show that she was serious about trying to have a real relationship with him, but she wasn't sure what the rules were for such a thing, or how to approach their increasing intimacy.

Mason enveloped her in one of his enthusiastic hugs and kissed her temple. "I'd like that, if you don't mind sharing. I promise not to snore. Or at least, not much. Well, you can always just hit me with a pillow or something if I do."

Pleased, Daisy smiled at him and laughed, pulling away to take his hand and led him to her bedroom. As she pushed open the door, he took a minute to study the inner sanctum of the woman who had captured his interest for the last six years. She'd decorated in soft shades of pink and cream, with old-fashioned glass perfume bottles and the silk scarves she was so fond of lining a vanity, where he could just picture her sitting, studying her reflection as she carefully applied her makeup. He looked up to find her nervously watching him, waiting for his reaction. It occurred to him that he was probably the first man she had actually brought home and allowed into her bedroom. She might let men pick her up from the house, but she always went home with them and never brought them back to her room. A bit awestruck, he smiled reassuringly. "It's lovely, just like you, luv."

Daisy brushed off his compliment with a dismissive shrug, but she smiled shyly and then helped him inflate the mattress and cover it with a set of soft blue sheets and the fleece blanket he had used the night before. He proudly topped the nest of blankets with his pillow from home, the faded Union Jack pillowcase completely at odds with her décor, but somehow it seemed to fit there in her softly feminine room. He hoped that was a good sign.

His girl—God, how he loved thinking that—stood and picked up a brush to run through her hair and then reached down for his hand to haul him to his feet. "I'd better go wake up Georgia. We're supposed to meet Rube and Roxy soon."

They trekked back to the living room, where George had managed to fall back asleep with the pillow still over her face. Daisy pulled it away and then shook her roommate's shoulder. "Time for Der Waffle Haus, Georgia." When George just shrugged Daisy's hand away, curling farther into the sofa and away from the intrusion of reality, Daisy used George's pillow to smack the snoozer. "Come on, babe. Nap time is over."

Mason chuckled from behind her. "To hear George tell it, you're the hard one to get up in the morning."

"We're well-matched, I suppose," Daisy allowed, and then gave up trying to be nice and started tickling George's sides. George squealed and promptly rolled right off the couch. Groaning, she stood and rubbed her now-sore back side.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" she protested before glancing at her watch. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Shit! We're going to be late!" she exclaimed, practically running out the front door as she attempted to slip her shoes on while hopping towards the car. "Well come _on_! And bring the keys!" she called behind her.

Daisy and Mason exchanged bemused looks and then followed after their boss.

* * *

When the three entered Der Waffle Haus, Roxy was the only one waiting for them. She sat in their usual booth, flipping through crime scene photos. George sighed in relief when she realized she'd beaten Rube there. She really wasn't in the mood for one of his punctuality lectures today. Not that he'd seemed to be in much of a lecturing mood since he'd reappeared, but she figured one was coming about the whole Ray thing and she really didn't need to add material for his lecture.

They didn't have to wait for him long. They'd just given Kiffany their drink orders when he hurried in, adding a hot tea to their order. Rube settled into the booth next to George and shrugged off his jacket and set his hat on the seat next to him.

The group made general small talk while deciding on their food orders. George turned towards Rube and when he turned to face her with an inquisitive eyebrow raised, she smiled. "Your stuff got here. I left it all in the foyer for you. I thought you might like to use the kitchen table for your computer stuff since we can eat in the dining room, but I didn't want to do anything without checking on what you wanted to do."

He nodded, "Thanks, Peanut. That's fine with me. It's your house, so whatever will work for you will be fine. I just need a spot to type up lists and print them out."

George grinned. "Speaking of which, since when do you type?"

Roxy looked up from across the table. "Shit, you type now? Since when?"

Rube looked slightly embarrassed, the tips of his ears going pink. George snickered from beside him, and he turned a disapproving frown on her, but the sparkle in his eyes and the twitch from the corner of his mouth as he fought to keep from smiling betrayed him. He gave them all an eye-roll before finally coming clean. "Fine, part of what I was doing in Vancouver involved learning how to use all these new-fangled gadgets. Spent two whole weeks with Mavis Fucking Beacon Teaches Fucking Typing," he admitted sheepishly.

George lost it, dissolving into giggles at his side, while the three across the table tried to hold in their own laughter with various degrees of success. Mason broke first, sending George into another round of laughter.

Their mirth was interrupted by Kiffany's fortuitous arrival. They managed to reign themselves in while she deposited cups and mugs around the table and then took their dinner orders. By the time she left, George managed an apologetic look towards her old boss, who just rolled his eyes again, but relaxed his posture as his embarrassment began to ebb away.

George cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, trying to reassert her authority persona. "Anyway, to business. Roxy and I found abso-fucking-lutely nothing. No sign of our wayward souls in the apartment, dad's workplace, or the graveyard where the wife/mother's buried. You guys have any better luck?" she asked Daisy and Mason.

Mason snickered under his breath and squeezed Daisy's thigh under the table. She shot him a warning glance and then turned back to George. "No, we didn't find anything either. We checked where he died and his apartment building. His family's out of state, and he just moved here a few months back, so he didn't really any close friends or anything in the area."

George sighed in disappointment, then quirked an eyebrow at Rube. "What about you? Did you strike out in Portland?"

"Actually, no," Rube replied thoughtfully. "The souls were still at the construction site, confused about what had happened. I guess I got there in time before they wandered off. They couldn't remember anybody touching them, but apparently they did have a strange conversation with a, and I quote, 'non-descript white guy' in his 30's with brown hair and a brown jacket. He might not be our reaper, but that's all we've got to go on. I've got my pal Harry checking on any reapers fitting the description in the Portland teams, and George, if you could follow up with the heads of the Seattle groups and see if anyone here fits that description?" he paused and then continued after George agreed. "It's not much, but at least it's something we can look into, instead of sitting on our asses all day waiting for something else to happen."

His words were still hanging in the air when the unmistakable sounds of gunshots came from somewhere outside Der Waffle Haus.

"You were saying?" George asked shakily.

* * *

A/N2: I just had to throw Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing in there. I don't know if they still use it, but back when I was in elementary school and the school had those ancient Macintosh computers, we used to go down to the library for typing lessons and Oregon Trail, and the thought of Rube frantically trying to type quickly enough to pass the typing games on there just makes me giggle. So does the thought of Rube playing Oregon Trail now that I think about it. Don't forget to drop a quick review- you don't even have to be signed in/registered. Thanks!


	13. Conversing with the Dead

A/N: So sorry about the lack up updates last week. I decided that since I wasn't constantly writing papers for school anymore that I could finally upgrade my laptop to Windows 7 after delaying it for months and months and of course the upgrade messed up my computer and then I got to spend all week trying to sort out why the darned thing runs slower than molasses. But it is mostly behaving again, at least enough for me to type this up and post, so we'll call that a victory. Huge thanks for all the reviews for last chapter; I'll try and respond to those after posting this (assuming the computer continues to cooperate!). Some of you have had really great theories going and I love hearing them. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter, and leave a review to let me know what you think!

* * *

_Last time: His words were still hanging in the air when the unmistakable sound of gunshots came from somewhere outside Der Waffle Haus._

_"You were saying?" George asked shakily. _

Before George had even finished speaking, Rube had jumped up and raced for the door, pausing only to shout back to Kiffany to hold their food until they got back. The other four reapers were right behind him, all thinking the same thing - was this a non-fatal shooting or had they inadvertently stumbled upon the perpetrator of the unscheduled deaths they'd been investigating?

Once outside, five heads swiveled back and forth, frantically searching for any indication of where the shots had originated from. George was the first to spot the fallen man laying half a block down the road. "There!" she cried, running towards the dying man. He was face-down on the sidewalk, laying half on the main street and half on a perpendicular alley. From where the reapers stood, his form was little more than a dark blotch on the ground in a circle of light cast from the windows of the busy restaurant next to the alley. By the time the other four reapers reached them, George was leaning down towards the dead man, careful to avoid getting any of the pooling blood on her shoes. Roxy split off from the group to investigate the alleyway, while George reached out a trembling hand and, to everyone's surprise, released the soul.

The soul sat up from his now-useless body, staring mutely at the three gunshot wounds on his chest. Bewildered, he looked up at the faces clustered around him and asked the obvious. "Am I dead?"

"I'm afraid so. But we're here to escort you to where you need to go. Before we do though, did you happen to see who shot you?" Rube questioned.

The dead man, still slightly shocked and reeling from his own demise, shook his head dejectedly. "Not really. Fuck! I don't even know who fucking killed me! Fucking hell!"

Daisy laid a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Don't get yourself all in a dither about it. We're going to take good care of you. What's your name, handsome? I'm Daisy, Daisy Adair, and these are my friends Rube, George, Mason, and the cop with the unfortunate haircut prowling around the alley back there looking for clues is Roxy," she said, gesturing to each reaper as she named them.

"You do realize that I can hear you and I have a gun, right?" Roxy's indignant voice floated out from the end of the alley where she was poking around some boxes piled next to an overflowing dumpster. "And there is nothing wrong with my hair! I like my hair damn it."

The man visibly relaxed as the two bantered, taking a few deep breaths and even managing a small smile. "My name's Benjamin Brooks."

"Benjamin! That's a fine name. Plenty of excellent men by the name of Benjamin, and I don't doubt that you're one of them." Daisy smiled at him reassuringly. "So tell me, Ben—do you mind if I call you Ben? —do you remember anything from right before you died?"

The man appeared to think, stroking his chin absentmindedly with one hand while the other beat a tattoo against his thigh. "I was coming out of the sushi place," he said, gesturing to the restaurant next door, "and I wasn't really paying much attention, just walking back to my car parked across the street. As I passed the alley, I heard shots. I barely even registered the pain before the ground came rushing up at me and everything went black."

Roxy rejoined the group. "I couldn't find much to ID the fucker. There's three gun casings-same caliber as the bullets used to shoot that college kid. Ballistics should be able to tell if it was the same gun. Looks like the shooter was waiting in the alley for someone to pass by, but that means that either the gunman wasn't picky about his victim or he followed you to the restaurant and was waiting for you. You notice anyone hanging around today?" she questioned Ben.

"Not that I can think of," Ben replied apologetically. "Oh wait! Now that you mention it, I think there was a guy hanging around the entrance to the alley. He was talking on a cell phone, so I didn't think anything of it. I don't know if he's the guy that shot me, but I'm pretty sure no one else was around."

Roxy pulled out a notebook. "Can you describe the guy for me?"

"Yeah, sure. It was a white guy with dark hair, maybe thirty? He was about your boy Mason's height, but more filled out. Not bad looking either, but nothing particularly memorable. He had a leather jacket on I think. He seemed upset with whoever he was on the phone with; kept insisting that everything was going according to plan and there was nothing to worry about. Does any of that help?"

Blue and green lights bloomed behind him at the end of the alley and took on the shape of a football field and bleachers. Rube nodded and clapped Ben on the shoulder. "Sure does. We'll try and find the bastard that killed you, but those," he said, indicating the lights, "are for you. Time for you to go."

"Those are for me?" Ben looked at the lights in wonder, before running towards them. As he paused at the edge of the field, he glanced back at the clustered reapers. "Thanks guys. Good luck." And then he was gone, the alley returned to normal.

"Sounds like the same guy the construction workers saw," Mason observed.

"Yeah, but that kind of description could cover any number of men. And we know that someone reaped the construction workers. Why didn't he reap Ben too?" Daisy asked, perplexed.

Roxy glared at the notebook she held in her hand. "We still got shit to work with here. We don't know if this white guy was the shooter or if he was waiting around to reap him and something prevented him. We don't know if this is the same guy as in Portland or why people are dying or who the fuck is killing them. We're still right at square one."

Rube sighed in frustration and then noticed that George wasn't really paying attention. "What's up, Peanut?" he asked.

George continued to stare at the boxes at the end of the alley. "Um, guys… I think we should be leaving. Right now. Yeah, we should get back to dinner. Dinner sounds good, right?" she ended with a squeak as she backed up and ran right into Rube, who had come up behind her trying to ascertain what she was staring at.

His hands closed around her shoulders holding her steady. He could feel her quivering, obviously spooked by something. Then she suddenly seemed to relax, turning to face the others with a forced smile. "Well? Dinner?" she asked.

Rube continued to watch her, convinced that something wasn't right. "What's wrong, George? Something obviously upset you."

She shook her head. "Not here. I'll tell you over dinner. Let's just get out of here. Besides, the police should show up any minute now. Someone must have called them when the shots were fired."

Mason paled. "She makes a good point, she does. Wouldn't want to be here with the coppies show up, would we? Difficult to explain, yeah?"

Roxy raised an eyebrow at him. "What'd you do now that I should be arresting you for?"

He gulped. "It's not so much what I did now as what I did awhile ago that there might still be a warrant for. I swear I've been on the straight and narrow since all this extra death stuff started happening."

Roxy sighed. "Now if only that would last. But George is right, we should probably get out of here." The wail of sirens approaching underscored the urgency. "Shit. Let's move."

The group hurried back to Der Waffle Haus while George kept turning around to keep watch over her shoulder and Rube kept watch on George. When they made it through the doors of the restaurant, George relaxed again, even sighing in relief. Rube resolutely steered her to the table, plunked her down and turned his inquisitorial expression on her.

Roxy wasn't as subtle. "What the fuck's going on, kid?"

George waited while Kiffany handed out the food that had been waiting for them. "Everything alright?" the waitress asked solicitously.

Rube hastened to reassure her. "Oh yes, we just thought we saw someone we knew walking past. Wasn't them though." He tested his now long-cold tea. "Could I get a new tea? And maybe fresh coffees for the rest of the bunch?"

"Of course," Kiffany agreed.

"Oh, and a slice of pie for my girl here. She's had a rough day."

Kiffany smiled. "I'll get right on that."

The reapers ate in silence, everyone else shooting concerned glances at George every few seconds. Kiffany returned with their drinks and placed a hot slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream at George's elbow. "Enjoy your meals," she said with a smile as she withdrew.

Mason finally couldn't take the suspense any longer and nudged her foot beneath the table. "Well?"

George sighed, picking up her coffee to blow on it and scan the restaurant. She took a sip and finally leaned in. "There were gravelings in the alley," she murmured.

Four sets of eyes widened in surprise. "What?" Rube exclaimed. "But it certainly seemed like a straight-up murder, not an accident. And what were they even doing at an unscheduled appointment?"

George shrugged. "How the fuck should I know? But there were two of them hiding in the boxes by that dumpster. They seemed to be watching us, and they seemed royally pissed."

"Why on earth…" Daisy trailed off. "Oh."

"Yeah," George agreed.

Mason frowned. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" he muttered unhappily.

Daisy and George ignored him while Roxy and Rube looked between the two girls in confusion.

"Did they… did they look mad at _all _of us?" Daisy asked delicately.

George hunched further into her seat. "Well, kind of. But mostly with me."

"You aren't making any sense!" Mason exclaimed.

Daisy rounded on him. "Think Mason! Who did the reaping?"

"Well, Georgie, but what's that got-"

"And what happened the last time you saw someone get killed without a post-it?" she interrupted.

"Oh," his eyes widened in understanding as comprehension dawned. "You mean?"

"Maybe!"

Rube pounded the table. "Somebody is going to explain, in full sentences, what the fuck you all are talking about."

George peaked up at him. "What if Ben was supposed to be a fucking graveling? What if I reaped him before he could turn into one? The two gravelings might have been waiting for their new little buddy and gotten pissed that I interfered." She dropped her gaze. "I mean, there's no way to know for sure, but it's possible, right?"

Roxy frowned. "Well, I guess, but they would've had to have help; they couldn't have shot Ben. And that doesn't explain the souls that crossed over on their own or the two Rube found."

Folding her arms on the table and leaning her chin on her crossed arms, George nodded slowly. "No, I guess not. But the gravelings were definitely pissed at something, and most of it was directed at me. They looked right at me and fucking hissed before they scampered off. They're in on all this somehow."

"Alright, so we all have to be extra vigilant. Especially you, George. I don't want anything happening to you, so you watch your back," Rube ordered. "And we just keep digging. I think the man Ben described is probably our best bet, so we keep looking into him. But right now, we enjoy our meal, and then we head back to the house."

The others nodded and resumed eating. After settling the bill, they drove back to George and Daisy's where they split up- Daisy and Mason to go talk upstairs, Roxy to the guest room to check in with the precinct, Rube to the kitchen to set up his computer and type up the team lists to be distributed, and George to make some calls about any reapers fitting the description they'd been given. Having no luck with her calls, she wandered down to see how Rube was doing, passing through the foyer on the way to the kitchen. But as she did so, she spotted an envelope sitting just inside the door that definitely hadn't been there when they'd first arrived.

* * *

A/N2: Two semi-evil cliffhangers in a row? Bad 'Ella. At least I promise not to go over a week without updating this time, that helps, right?


	14. A New Avenue of Investigation?

A/N: Greetings once again! So I sort of said this would be up on Friday, but technically I'm only an hour late. Close enough, right? As always, thanks to all my reviewers, readers, followers, favorite-ers, etc. Having you all reading this is pretty much awesome. (Even more so when you review, hint hint.) At least this time I didn't really leave you with a cliffhanger!

* * *

Using the bottom of the oversized t-shirt she'd donned over yoga pants to sleep in to prevent her from disturbing any fingerprints on the envelope, George gingerly picked it up by the corner and held it out in front of her, well away from her body.

"HEY! Reaper meeting in the kitchen, NOW!" George shouted before striding quickly into the kitchen where Rube had been typing up reap lists. He looked up at her with a startled look on his face, his fingers still hovering over the keys of his laptop. Seeing the grim expression on her face, he quickly shut the lid of the laptop and looked her over, noticing the envelope as he did so.

"Is that…" he began, dark fury beginning to overtake his eyes.

George placed a calming hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I don't know yet, I haven't opened it. But it is the same kind of envelope, so I'm thinking there's a good chance, yeah."

Roxy burst into the kitchen at a run, making a comical picture with her hair in curlers and her hand hovering over her sidearm which she'd hastily belted over her pajamas. When she saw only George and Rube, she relaxed but raised a questioning eyebrow at her young boss.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

George stared at Roxy's unexpected pajama choice: blue flannel pjs covered in teddy bears. "What the fuck are you _wearing_?" she questioned as Mason and George came stumbling into the kitchen, hair and clothes slightly awry.

To George's surprise, Roxy looked slightly embarrassed, shifting from foot to foot and crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to look fierce. "Leave my pajamas out of this, Toilet Seat. What were you screaming about?"

Mason held her by the shoulders as he inspected her for damage but found none. "You alright, Georgie?" he asked to make sure.

George shrugged dismissively. "Fine, fine." She held the envelope aloft. "But this was sitting inside the front door when I came down, and I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't there when we got here."

Roxy turned and headed back up the stairs. The rest of them stared after her in confusion, but when she returned several minutes later with her fingerprinting kit, their puzzled expressions evaporated. She briskly took the envelope from George with a pair of tweezers and got to work dusting for prints. While she worked, the others milled around in anxious silence.

George decided she'd had enough silence and began banging pots around in the kitchen as she heated milk over the stove for hot chocolate and plated slices from the pecan pie they'd brought back from Der Waffle Haus. Roxy was just finishing up when George began handing around plates and mugs.

"Envelope's clean. Should we see what fucked up surprise we have waiting for us tonight?" she asked rhetorically as she pealed back the flap and slid out the envelope's contents.

Instead of a note like they'd expected, four black and white photographs fell into Roxy's latex glove clad hand. The first showed Roxy and George in the cemetery. In the second photo, Daisy and Mason were climbing into George's Mustang outside an apartment building. Rube and a strange man in flannel and ripped jeans stood beside a construction site in the third photograph, and the final picture showed all five of them clustered around Ben's dead body in the alleyway. In each photo, a red circle with a slash through it was drawn over their faces but in the final shot, a big red X covered George's entire body and the words "You were warned" were scrawled in the same red ink across the top of the shot. The red ink stood out in sharp contrast against the grays, blacks and whites of the photos, and George felt a chill run up her spine as she examined the group picture.

Daisy had backed into Mason's chest as she saw what the envelope contained, and the two of them stood close, supporting each other. Roxy sat grim faced next to Rube, her lips pressed into a sharp thin line, her fury practically radiating off of her. George found herself drifting closer to Rube, almost afraid of Roxy in her current mood. This time Rube reached out a calming hand and wrapped his fingers around hers where they hung limply by her side.

In an icy controlled voice, Roxy barked out, "I am going to find the fuckers that are doing this and they are going to fucking pay. Nobody threatens my family." She slammed the pictures down on the table and stood slowly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go call the fucking police station again and see if anyone's found anything." Then in a softer tone of voice, she said, "George honey, save my pie for me would you?"

Shocked, George just nodded mutely, not sure what to do with Roxy being—dare she say it?—almost affectionate. As Roxy left the room, George sank into her chair, not relinquishing her death grip on Rube's hand. Daisy and Mason sat in the remaining chairs.

"I suppose nobody heard anything when this was delivered?" Rube asked as his thumb brushed calming circles over George's thumb but fury still in his eyes.

In the small voice she used when she was feeling insecure or upset, George just answered, "No." After a beat of silence, she straightened in her chair. "What if a graveling was playing delivery boy for someone? We'd have never heard them creep up and slide it under the door."

Next to her, Daisy slowly nodded. "It's possible. Ray certainly managed to sneak in and out of the house whenever he wanted to. But these pictures… someone was _following _us. They could be watching us right now."

Beside her, Mason nodded, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Fuckers have probably been watching us since you got that first letter under the door."

Rube shushed them. "Panicking isn't going to get us anywhere. Did you find out anything from the other division leaders about our mysterious dark haired man?"

George frowned. "No, not really," she admitted. "The closest any Seattle reapers come to our description is probably Brian, but he's too young looking for anyone to peg him as mid-30s. But Plague Division isn't back from an out-of-town assignment, so I couldn't check with them."

Rube waved his free hand dismissively. "No, none of them fit that description either; they've all been in town a long time and I know all of them. If someone had said the guy we're looking for was on the heavy side, then there's one or two that might fit, but with them being on assignment and all I think they're safely accounted for."

Mason noticed Daisy starting to nod off over her cocoa and decided she had had enough for one day and led her off to bed, bidding the other two reapers goodnight in a far more somber tone than usual.

When they were gone, George sighed in frustration. "We need to catch a break on this or it is going to tear us apart. Unless the fucking gravelings do it first." Then she scoffed. "Of course, I could always just start reaping every graveling we see."

She expected Rube to either tuck up one corner of his mouth in a reluctant smile or to start lecturing her on being responsible but instead he stilled even more than usual and resolutely stared at his empty mug instead of meeting her gaze.

Beginning to feel alarmed, George tugged on the hand she still held in her possession. "Alright, spit it out. What's going on in that head of yours, Bossman?"

Switching the direction of his gaze to their interlaced fingers, Rube sighed. George decided that was at least a slight improvement and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Come on. We've always been able to talk. Pretend we're at Der Waffle Haus and you've just ordered me an ice cream or something."

He finally rewarded her with the small smile she'd been desperate to see after the shock of the photos. For some reason, that smile always reassured her that as fucked up as things were, they'd get better because Rube was on her side.

"This isn't easy for me to say, kid," he said apologetically, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

George shrugged. "Well whatever it is, you're making me more nervous by dragging it out. Just say it quick, like ripping off a band-aid."

That earned her a snort of amusement, and George hid a smile behind her hand. "You're something else, Peanut," Rube said ruefully. "The thing is, I made some calls on the way back from Portland. What you said about seeing reapers when you were alive made me suspect something and I wanted to look into it before I mentioned it to you, so don't go ranting and raving about me keeping secrets," he warned her.

"What? Why would you think I would…" Seeing his meaningful look, George snapped her mouth shut. "OK, fine, you know me sooo well. What did you suspect and what'd you find out?"

He tightened his grip on her hand. "Very occasionally, someone will miss their appointment, you know this."

George nodded, trying to prompt him to continue with whatever he was trying to say.

"Well, sometimes when that happens, especially if an appointment gets rescheduled just before a death was originally scheduled, there can be… consequences."

"Consequences," George repeated dryly, still not understanding what the hell he was talking about.

"Yes, smart ass, consequences. Like, say, being able to see gravelings. Maybe even the gravelings sent to arrange their death before being called off."

George's eyes widened. "You think I was supposed to die in that pool?"

"No, Peanut. You died exactly when you were meant to. I wrote out the post-it, remember? What I suspected was that you had a previous appointment that for whatever reason, you missed. And from what you said, it sounded like you just barely missed it. Coming that close to death has been known to make someone more aware of reapers and gravelings. Sometimes people with missed appointments can see right through a reaper's disguise and see them as they really are, sometimes they see gravelings in action. Point being, it seemed like that might explain why you see them so clearly. So I made a few calls to check on my suspicion."

Biting her lip, George stared at him impatiently. "Well?"

"Well," Rube continued, "it turns out I was right. You did have an appointment scheduled. Turns out I've actually written you two post-its, but one wasn't acted on because you didn't die. It was just so long ago I'd forgotten that I'd written the name once before."

As he'd anticipated, George exploded. "What the fuck, Rube? You're telling me I was supposed to die when I was eight and you fucking forgot about it?"

He stood and tugged her by the hand clasped in his into his chest and wrapped his arms securely around her and waited for her breathing to even out some. Then he leaned back. "Yeah, I'm saying I forgot, but I'm not saying you were supposed to die. Why do you think I fucking forgot about it? Because you didn't fucking die. There was no paperwork on you because you were supposed to keep on living. You died at exactly the moment you were meant to die. Fact is, I kind of wonder if you had that close brush with death exactly so that you could be the reaper you are now."

He led her over to the couch and pulled her down next to him, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Look kid, I'm going to be frank with you. Reapers can't reap gravelings. Gravelings have no soul to pop. They're like reapers, tasked to do a job and virtually indestructible. I think the reason you could was because you had that near brush with death. And to be honest, even I don't know the full extent of what you can do. As far as I could discover, you're the only missed appointment to ever become a reaper."

George scoffed. "Oh great, so now I'm some kind of reaping freak? Of course. Because when have I ever been normal?"

"Hold on just a minute. When exactly did I say you were a freak? I believe I said you can do more than the average reaper. You're special, Georgia. Not a freak, special. And before all this is over, I have a feeling we'll all be very glad that you are."

Whatever response George might have made was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. With a sigh, George stood and strode over to her purse, plucking the phone out and glancing half-angrily at the display. When she read who was calling, the frown smoothed away leaving only curiosity as she answered.

"What, you couldn't got more than an hour without talking to me?" she joked.

"Ha ha, you're a riot, Toilet Seat," Brian responded, the smirk he no doubt was wearing evident in his tone. "No, I remembered somethin' and I thought you might like to know. But if you'd rather finish your comedy act instead, that's fine with me."

"Oh please, just spit it out, you ass," George insisted.

Brian's voice turned serious. "Well, it's just that I had a thought that you may have been over looking. That kid over at the university got killed during a robbery, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, what were they trying to steal? Presumably it was the same people involved in the other deaths. And the kid interrupted them, so they weren't there to kill someone, or at least, weren't just there to kill someone. Maybe if you find out what they needed from the university, you can find out what they're trying to do and who would want to do that."

George groaned. "Oh my God, you're completely right. How the hell did we forget about that? Brian, you just might be a fucking genius. Thanks for the call, I'd better get on this."

"No problem, dead girl. Good luck," he said before disconnecting the call.

George turned and bestowed a huge grin on her former boss. "We just might have gotten our first solid lead."

* * *

A/N2: Hey look, we're getting somewhere! Sometimes it just takes an outside observation to put the first piece into place to solve the whole puzzle. And sometimes it isn't nearly that simple. You can probably guess which one is at work here :)


	15. The Best Part of Waking Up

A/N: Ahh, it's been approximately _forever _since I last updated this, so hopefully I haven't lost all of my readers! Real life happened for awhile; had to move across the Atlantic, look for a job, unpack, all that good stuff. But I promise I am still working on this; the ending is all planned out and everything, so it's just a matter of getting it written. That said, I'm also participating in National Novel Writing Month during November, so I have no idea how that will impact how quickly this gets updated; either I'll be so ready for a break in writing for that that I'll manage to update fairly regularly or I'll be so sick of writing that updates will be pretty slow. We'll see, I guess! Thanks for sticking with me regardless! (Also, sorry this isn't the most exciting of chapters; it's mostly setting things up for the next chapter, so I'll make an effort to get the next one posted soon.)

* * *

Upstairs, Roxy stalked in circles around the small guestroom, hands clenched into fists to avoid the temptation of pulling her hair out in frustration. No matter which way she spun the facts around in her head, connections and explanations remained just out of reach, taunting her with the knowledge that she was missing something. First it was the three kids in the lab explosion, then the father and son, followed by the kid at the university, the two men in Portland, and finally the murder near Der Waffle Haus. Three kids at the lab, the father and son, the kid at the univer…

For the second time that evening, Roxy raced full-throttle down the stairs as the proverbial light bulb switched on over her head. She found George and Rube in much the same position she had left them in, only now they were chatting animatedly and George was gesturing wildly about something.

"The university!" Roxy interjected, huffing to catch her breath again.

Rube favored her with an approving smile as George leapt up to pull Roxy over to a chair.

"We were just talking about that! Brian, you know, the local natural causes head? He called and suggested we look into the robbery up on campus, since that one seems to have happened because the stupid kid interrupted the robbery, not because whoever our psycho-murderer is wanted someone dead."

Roxy shook her head. "That's not what I meant." She paused, and then started again. "Actually, that's a damn good point, but that wasn't what I was going to say." She stood and strode over to the fridge, pulling out her pie from earlier and returned to the table, mulling over her words as she did so. "All of these deaths have seemed pretty fucking random, right?"

Rube quirked an eyebrow while George slumped in her seat and grimly nodded. "And you're thinking they're not?" Rube asked rhetorically.

Roxy paused to chew her food and swallowed before continuing. "It's just… look, we think some mysterious man in black is involved somehow, right? And we also know the fucking gravelings are in on this somehow. Some deaths have seemed like legit accidents, which might be the work of the gravelings, while others are murders which couldn't have been done by the gravelings. But all of these deaths have to be connected and I think UW is our connection."

George twiddled a spoon between her fingers, spinning it around and over her fingers as she thought. "Hey, you're right. The first deaths were there- freak lab explosion. Then there was the murder of that dad and son we checked out, and then there was another kid at the university, this time shot in the chest. So we've got both the gravelings and the killers at UW. If we assume they're working together, there must be some reason they're interested in UW. And in the science labs in particular. Roxy! Can you find out what was taken during the robbery?"

Roxy nodded as she dropped her fork onto her now empty pie plate. "First thing in the morning," she promised.

Rube drummed his fingers against the table. "If you two are right, there might be a connection between all of the deaths that we're just not seeing. See what else you can dig up on the other victims as well, would you? I have this feeling that we're overlooking something."

"Maybe it will all make more sense once we figure out what the robbers were after," George offered with less sarcastic pessimism than she would normally use to utter such an optimistic thought. "Rox, was there any security footage or anything on robbers? Like, do we have any idea how many people were involved?"

"No footage, but the investigators are fairly sure it wasn't a one-man job. Probably more like three or four, maybe five if they had a getaway driver. So if our man in black was involved, he had help."

Rube frowned. "That might be helpful, but then again, if the man in black is our reaper, he could have rounded up mortal assistance for his robbery attempt." Seeing the defeat settling back across the faces of his former charges, Rube mentally kicked himself and attempted a small smile. "But this is good, we're getting somewhere. Tomorrow we'll look into the robbery and our victims some more and see where that takes us."

He stood and wrapped an arm around both women's shoulders. "Come on, you two. You'll both think better after getting some sleep." He led them to the foot of the stairs. "And I might actually finish typing my fucking reap lists if you get out of my make-shift office!"

George shot him a wan smile and played along with his efforts to lighten the mood, rolling her eyes and offering her typing assistance. "I'll be fine, go to bed smart-ass," he ordered with a twinkle in his eye.

Roxy just groaned at both of them and went upstairs, muttering about damn fools as she climbed the steps. George winked at Rube and followed, glad that between the three of them, they'd not only settled on a plan for tomorrow, but also restored a certain amount of normalcy, something that had been sorely lacking for a long time now. Since Rube had left the first time actually. The thought sobered her, making her question whether she really was doing as well as head reaper as she'd thought. But remembering Rube's words at Der Waffle Haus the other day made her push back her insecurities. She'd be no use to anyone if she spent all her fucking time playing mind games with herself. And with that mental lecture firmly given, George collapsed on top of her bed and promptly fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Rube finished typing and printing his lists and carefully placed all but one individually inside an envelope and set the stack outside the door, knowing the delivery shades would be by soon to pick them up and distribute them across the Pacific Northwest. Before shutting off the lights and making his way to the pull-out sofa, he dropped the sheet he'd left out of the pile at George's place at the table and then made a slight detour to the bathroom to scrub his face clean, brush his teeth, and change into a t-shirt and sweat pants. Rube glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. He was way too old to stay up until three am chatting. With a resigned sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, barely making it all the way onto the bed and under the sheets before sleep claimed him.

* * *

The next morning, Mason made his way downstairs, navigating largely on autopilot as one hand rubbed the sleep from his eyes and the other combed through his disheveled hair, managing to tousle it more than it had been already, the strands standing in every direction. With a huge yawn, he padded over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice, remembering at the last second that George (and probably Daisy too) would likely kill him if he was caught drinking from the carton again. He began poking through cabinets in search of a glass. On the third try, he emerged victorious, long fingers wrapped around a glass. He poured the juice and then shuffled over to the table. After a long drink of juice, he felt slightly more human but keenly felt the lack of coffee. He was peering at the coffee maker, trying to determine if he dared risk attempting to run it without breaking something important, when the machine clicked on automatically and began to brew. He heaved a sigh of relief. Just a few minutes more and the comforting rush of caffeine through his system might help to stave off his body's insistent demand for alcohol. Ever since Ray's death—or was it redeath?— and George's promotion, Mason had been attempting to wean himself off of the drugs and alcohol, fully aware of how they'd been used against him. The withdrawal symptoms had passed, but he knew the urge to drink never would. The fragile understanding that had emerged between him and Daisy was still so new that he was more determined than ever to avoid alcohol's siren song.

Roxy found him still slumped in the chair and staring hard at the coffeemaker, his white-knuckled grip on the empty juice glass belying his studied air of nonchalance. "Morning, love," he greeted her, attempting to pass for normal under her sharp gaze.

For her part, Roxy studied him closely and eventually decided that the suspicion she'd been quietly investigating for the past few months was accurate. Mason hadn't been hung over or bleary-eyed in months, and he'd been much more subdued and well-behaved lately. As the coffeemaker sputtered the last of the fresh brew into the pot, she squeezed his shoulder and moved to pour them both a cup. Mason grabbed his from her with a happy sigh, relinquishing his death-grip on the glass in favor of cradling the coffee mug to the side of his face and closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth. After letting it cool for a minute, he took a grateful swallow and feeling more centered, turned his attention back to his companion.

The two spent a moment in companionable silence, just quietly drinking their coffee. Roxy gently set her mug down on the table and then reached across the table to squeeze Mason's arm as she offered one of her rare compliments, "You're alright, Mason. I always thought you were better than the drugs and booze. That shit just fucks you up. I'm proud of you for going clean."

Mason ducked his head to hide the small smile curving across his face, secretly pleased that Roxy had noticed and cared. Straightening, he shrugged dismissively, trying to brush off his success. "Eh, y'know how it goes. Just wasn't as much fun as it used ta be."

Roxy raised her eyebrows but just murmured a skeptical, "Mhmm." Daisy chose that moment to make her appearance, flouncing into the room so that the layered skirt of her dress fluttered prettily. "And I'm sure _that_ had nothing to do with it too," Roxy remarked knowingly.

Mason blushed and quickly started chattering to divert Daisy's attention away from Roxy's cryptic utterance.

Exhausted, George stumbled into the kitchen and immediately went for the coffee. Despite the long night ironing out a plan of attack, she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in, knowing that more deaths would occur until they caught the son of a bitch doing the killing. The others wisely left her alone. After gulping down her coffee, she poured herself a refill and then poured the last of the pot into a mug for Rube and started a fresh pot.

Sipping hers, she carefully maneuvered towards the sofa bed and set Rube's mug down on the coffee table before shaking his shoulder to wake him. When he groaned and cracked one eye open to see who'd dared to wake him, George gave him a tired smile and then gestured to the coffee sitting on the table for him. With a resigned sigh, he hauled himself up so he was sitting upright and leaning against the sofa back and sipped at his coffee, not batting an eye when George settled down next to him on the bed and let her head fall back with a tired sigh as she contemplated the day's tasks. Tilting her head slightly to look at her old boss, she questioned, "We have any early reaps today? I haven't looked at the list yet."

Rube just shook his head and continued to sip his coffee. After another five minutes, George stood with a groan. "Alright, team meeting time. You wanna fill 'em in while I write up post-its?"

"If you want," he offered, standing and following her back to the kitchen.

They sank down into their respective seats and George proceeded to assign appointments while Rube, with the occasional interjection from Roxy, filled Mason and Daisy in on their late-night brainstorming session. The couple volunteered to do some digging on the victims to see if there were any connections they were missing, while Roxy announced her intention of heading to the precinct to find out anything she could on the robbery that they'd managed to overlook. George snapped the rubber band back around the appointment calendar and slapped post-its down in front of their respective owners.

When they all just calmly read their notes and tucked them away without really reacting, some of George's normal exuberance began to reassert itself. "Well, come on, people! Let's get busy!" With a horrified gasp, George slapped her hand over her mouth. "Shit! I'm fucking turning into Delores!"


End file.
